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FIRST AFFAIR 



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BT THE SAME AUTHOR 


THE LAST AMERICAN 
AMOS JUDD 
THAT FIRST AFFAIR 
GLORIA VICTIS 
THE PINES OF LORY 
LIFE’S FAIRY TALES 


\ 


That First Affair 

And Other Sketches 






























































































































































AN ENORMOUS BUNCH OF FLOWERS IN HIS TRUNK 


That First Affair 

And Other Sketches . 


' ? 

JA A? Mitchell 


Editor of “Life,” author of “Amos Judd,” etc. 


Illustrated by 

C. D. Gibson, A. B. Frost, F. T. Richards 
and the Author 


SIXTH EDITION 


New York 

Charles Scribner’s Sons 

1910 



'PZ ' 5 

on* 


Copyright , 1896, 

By Charles Scribner’s Sons . 


^ O 'Z D V Lj 

- 7 - " 2 . 



CONTENTS 


PAGE 

That First Affair ..... 3 

Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 55 

Two Portraits 81 

The Man who Vanished . . . 139 

A Bachelor’s Supper 155 









































































































, I % s i 1 4 i * 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

An enormous bunch of flowers in his 

trunk Frontispiece 

When the light went out, leaving the 

earth in darkness 9 

He did his best to make her cheerful 21 

A sumptuous picture of dignity and 

patrician elegance 54 

The portrait of a girl in an old-fashioned 

hat 83 

He strolled dreamily about the old 

garden 93 

What is it I ought to see ? ... 98 

Beneath the lamp he re-read the note 100 

Into the county of Kent .... 103 

A rambling, irregular structure . . 104 

A portrait of himself ! 106 

The portrait in America had come to 

life 109 

He made a low bow 1 19 

vii 


List of Illustrations 


PAGE 

You must n’t call me that .... 127 

The thing he saw drove the blood 

from his cheeks 143 

There was soon a great rejoicing . . 149 

How close they sat 158 

But they all understand . . . . 169 

She took his head in both her hands 
and kissed him . . . . . 171 

When Clem entered the next morning 175 


That First Affair 






















That First Affair 

I T is bad enough to be alone in a 
big house, and there is yet more 
solitude, the poets tell us, in being alone 
in a great city ; but the hero of this 
simple scandal was alone on the sur- 
face of the earth, the only man, abso- 
lutely single and unique, — solitary, — 
all by himself. 

Of course there were animals, but 
no record exists of dog or cat or parrot ; 
and what hope for boon companion- 
ship with the mylodon, the ichthyo- 
saurus, or the ornithiohnites gjganteus ? 
3 


\ 


That First Affair 


But, worst of all, he had no memories, 
for he started already brought up. He 
had never been a boy. Selkirk and 
other solitaries, either in heart or trou- 
sers’ pocket, bore memories of mother, 
or proof of maiden’s love ; but this 
young man knew not mother, maid, 
or memories, and had never seen a 
pair of trousers. 

His education was limited, as history 
had not yet begun. Botany was trying 
her first experiments. Reading, writ- 
ing, and geography were still unborn ; 
and, thus far, no vulgar fractions had 
shed their blight upon a peaceful earth. 
However, being the first of the kind, 
and never having seen his like, he 
probably regarded this as the usual 
condition of affairs ; the proper thing, 
in fact. But the goings on of other 
animals could not fail to start him 
on a line of thought that was sure 
to be upsetting. They were pairing 
off in twos, and with their individual 
families seemed to get the upper hand 


That First Affair 


of an unpleasant isolation that threat- 
ened to make his own existence a 
melancholy failure. And doubly de- 
pressing was the gradual discovery that 
while among the other animals there 
were at least two of a kind, thus ren- 
dering these partnerships an easy busi- 
ness, for him there seemed no such 
hope. Day after day he searched, but 
found no biped similar to himself. 
Meeting, one tranquil eve, a palaeo- 
therium with his bride, he asked the 
happy groom where he found his mate, 
and if, in that locality, there were 
brides in human shape. u No,” the 
pgl^otherium answered, u I have seen 
them nowhere ; but off to the south 1 
passed maidens of the gorilla family 
who walk on their hind legs and use 
their front paws just as you do; and 
they also bear a certain resemblance in 
physiognomy.” 

“ Yes ; I know those maidens,” re 
plied the solitary one ; “ but somehow 
they fail to fascinate me. They are 
5 


That First Affair 


hasty-tempered and too muscular. 1 
should never be master in my own 
house ; and they are such restless climb- 
ers ! No ; home would not be home 
with those girls.” 

Two squirrels, newly wedded, threw 
nuts at him as he wandered melancholy 
by, and twitted him on living by him- 
self. w Get a girl,” cried the groom, 
“ and go to housekeeping. There ’s 
nothing like it, really ! ” 

And later a mastodon, hurrying pon- 
derously, yet joyfully along, with an 
enormous bunch of flowers in his trunk, 
nearly trampled the disconsolate bache- 
lor beneath his feet. 

u I beg your pardon ! ” he exclaimed. 
u I came within an ace of walking on 
you.” 

u I wish you had.” 

“ Why, what has happened ? ” 

“ Oh, nothing has happened, and 
nothing ever will ! ” 

The big traveller failed to understand, 
but his business that morning was too 


That First Affair 


interesting for delays. Being of a 
sympathetic nature, however, he made 
one attempt at consolation. 

w Let me put you on my back, and 
I ’ll take you to my wedding. You 
shall be best man.” 

The invitation was declined, but in- 
cidents of this kind only increased the 
bitterness of a lonely spirit, and aggra- 
vated a situation already painful. The 
most dismal hours of all were during 
those regular intervals when the light 
went out, leaving the earth in dark- 
ness. This joyless condition lasted 
many hours, and was only alleviated 
by a smaller and much colder luminary 
than the sun, which, as the lone one 
gazed upon it, filled him with uncon- 
trollable longings. The evening zephyrs 
breathed exasperating secrets, always of 
a tender and mysterious nature. And 
during these dusky hours the frogs and 
turtles intensified his woe by their 
vociferous courtships. 

But a surprise was awaiting him, and 
7 


That First Affair 


it came in a novel way. Early one 
morning, as he lay upon the grass, con- 
versing with a skylark who was hunting 
worms for his family breakfast, the bird 
remarked, — 

u I suppose you feed your little ones 
on quite different food.” 

“ I have no little ones.” 

“ Oh, too bad ! All dead ? ” 

“ No ; I never had any.” 

u Your wife ’s alive ? ” 

“ Never had any.” 

“So you ’re a bachelor ! Well, it’s 
a shame for such a good-looking chap 
to go to waste. You ought to marry, 
and do it while you ’re young.” 

The youth sat up and shook his hair 
from his face with an angry move- 
ment. 

“ I would if I could, and quick 
enough ! ” 

The lark laughed. u Would if you 
could ! Why, any girl would have you.” 

“ But there is n’t any girl.” 

“ Oh, fiddle ! ” 


8 



WHEN THE LIGHT WENT OUT, LEAVING THE EARTH IN DARKNESS 




























That First Affair 

u But there is n’t, and never has been!” 
The bird looked earnestly at him, 
and came a little nearer. u That is a 
serious oversight,” he said impressively, 
his head to one side. 

u Serious ! I should say it was ! ” 
u Look here,” said the lark, in a 
lower tone and coming closer still, 
“ there have been several important 
errors in this creation, and the one you 
mention just caps the climax. While 
of little importance to the world at 
large, I can see that for you, personally, 
it is terribly aggravating. Now, I won’t 
mention names, but there are several 
creatures hereabouts that should never 
be allowed in a first-class garden. It 
all comes from a reprehensible careless- 
ness in the supervision.” 

“ That ’s just what I think,” said 
the young man. 

w If, for instance,” continued the sky- 
lark, “ there were fewer mosquitoes and 
more girls, it would be a far more 
attractive garden.” 


That First Affair 

44 Would n’t it, though ! ” 

44 And suppose all the mosquitoes 
were girls, what a different kind of a 
time you would have ! ” 

44 Don’t talk about it ; ” and the youth 
rolled over upon the turf and muttered 
all the wicked words he knew. 

The sympathy of the skylark was 
aroused, also his anger, and he exclaimed, 
44 What ’s the use of a man without a 
girl ? ” 

44 None ! ” 

44 Why, you have no home ! ” 

44 No; I sleep in a new one every 
night.” 

44 Now, marriage is rife in this garden, 
and I can’t imagine why you should be 
shut out. You are as good as the rest 
of us, at least, you appear so.” 

There was a silence, during which 
both were thinking. It was broken 
by the lark, who said, in a reflective 
tone, — 

44 It must be a mistake : just a stupid 
blunder. There ’s nothing to punish 


That First Affair 

you for. You haven’t led a fast life, 
have you, or been bad in any way ? ” 

“ A fast life ! ” exclaimed the man, 
“ fast o^\ what ? There is no one to 
gamble with ; I never saw a woman ; 
there ’s nothing to drink but water, and 
1 am only a week old, anyway f ” 

The skylark smiled. “ Well,” he 
said, “ I believe it ’s simply a mistake, 
and that the powers above have for- 
gotten all about you. I will do the 
best I can to advertise the fact, and it 
may reach their ears. You just wait 
here a minute.” 

Thereupon he spread his wings and 
soared aloft. As he arose toward the 
clouds he sang, in clear, far-reaching 
notes, — 

“ Not a woman in the world ! ” 
Higher and higher he went, until, to 
the anxious bachelor, he became a tiny 
speck in the sky, the note growing 
fainter all the while. At last the blue 
ether closed in about him and shut the 
messenger from sight. 

13 


That First Affair 


A long time he was gone, but he 
finally returned, and out of breath. 

“Well, I have spread it through the 
heavens,” he said ; “ and if there is 
justice anywhere, you ought to get it.” 

The tary next day, rather early in 
the afternoon, our hero, yielding to a 
heavier drowsiness than usual, reclined 
in the cool shade of a fern, — an ante- 
diluvian fern about a hundred feet in 
height, — and fell straightway into a 
deep slumber. When he awoke the 
surprise was there ! She was close 
beside him, leaning over and gazing 
down into his face, and he, in un- 
speakable rapture, looked up into an- 
other pair of human eyes. Fearing it 
a dream, he blinked and looked again. 
It surely was the prayed-for girl ! Her 
eyes, surprised and timid; the delicate 
contour of her face and neck ; the 
luxuriant locks that grazed his cheek 
as she bent forward, — all filled him 
with a gentle ecstasy. 

He smiled ; she returned the smile, 


14 


That First Affair 


and, either from embarrassment or alarm, 
edged further away. Still sitting among 
the flowers, she watched him intently, 
as if trying to comprehend the situation. 
As for him, so great was his joy that 
he found no words to express it. He 
continued, however, to manifest his 
intense delight by a series of welcom- 
ing smiles, but these at last were dis- 
concerting to the maiden, compelling 
her to turn away in some confusion. 
For it must be remembered that this 
4 was not only her first appearance in 
any society, but it had come with un- 
precedented suddenness. Her ward- 
robe, being a thing of the future, might 
also have troubled her under different 
circumstances, but at this informal period 
no fashions had been set in clothing ; 
in fact, no standards of any kind were 
as yet established for the guidance of 
beginners. 

She seemed even more amazed than 
he, and stared at everything about her 
in a charming bewilderment. 

15 


That First Affair 


w Where did you come from ? ” he 
finally asked. 

“ I am sure I don’t know ! ” she 
answered ; u I just found myself here.” 

Her voice was gentler, more melo- 
dious than his own He put his hand 
to his side as if something were missing, 
but his face expressed no regret. 

u You are very beautiful ! far more in- 
teresting than anything in this garden.” 

“Thank you,” she replied, with a 
blush ; cc I have never seen myself, but 
it is very kind of you to think so.” 

“ I am glad enough you have come,” 
he continued. “ I have lived here 
some days, and it ’s dull being alone.” 
u Where are the others ? ” she asked. 
u The other animals ? ” 
u The other people.” 
w There are no others.” 

She seemed disappointed. But this 
brief conversation had given her more 
confidence in herself, and she replied, 
with a suspicious look, “ So you are 
the only man ! ” 


That First Affair 


“ Yes.” 

Now this was an unacceptable truth to 
a belle who was making a brilliant debut. 

“ How do you know that ? ” 

w Because I have n’t seen any, or 
heard of any ; and I have inquired far 
and near.” 

u Have you been everywhere your- 
self ? ” and then, as her eyes swept the 
distant hills she added, “ It seems quite 
a place ! There must be some variety 
in the way of men.” 

“ Well, it’s what all the animals tell 
me, and the birds too : and some of 
them are tremendous travellers.” 

As he gazed in admiration upon this 
new companion, he could not conceal 
his contentment in being able to make 
such a reply. But she was evidently 
far from satisfied. After a pause, dur- 
ing which she caused him to feel that 
he was taking an ignoble advantage of 
a trusting girl, she inquired, without 
looking toward him, “Then what on 
earth do you do with yourself? ” 

17 


2 


That First Affair 


44 Oh, nothing much : generally as 
the others do.” 

14 Then there are others ? ” 

44 1 mean the other animals.” 

44 And how do they pass the time ? ” 
44 Oh, stroll about and eat things, 
mostly fruit and berries ; and take 
naps.” 

44 What a life ! ” 

44 It is dull.” 

44 Dull ! I should die ! ” 

44 There are some fine views.” 

But she made no reply, and there was 
another silence in which he felt her 
contempt. At last, in a consoling man- 
ner he remarked, 44 But then you will 
have me ! ” 

44 Really ! ” 

He blushed and tried to assert him- 
self against a foolish diffidence that was 
constantly possessing him ever since he 
had met this person. 

44 What I mean is that you will have 
one companion, such as it is, while I 
have been all alone by myself.” 

1 8 


That First Affair 


She put her hand to her mouth as if 
to conceal a yawn, then sighed as she 
asked, — 

“ And the neighbors ? Are they pleas- 
ant people ? ” 

“ But there are none, I say.” 

w Not hereabouts, perhaps, but further 
away. Off there, or there,” she ex- 
claimed nervously, pointing in different 
directions. 

“ There is nobody anywhere. I 
have inquired and hunted, and we are 
the only ones.” 

“ Impossible ! ” and she arose to her 
feet with a look of alarm. u I can’t be- 
lieve it. It is terribly inconsiderate ; 
and I am sure it ’s unusual.” 

“ U nusual ! ” he repeated ; u why, what 
is the usual custom ? ” 

“I don’t know, but it seems queer. 
Are you sure it ’s all right ? I was never 
in such a position before.” 

w But you never were in any position 
before,” he answered with a smile. 

She made no reply, simply expressing 
19 


That First Affair 


by her manner an increased distrust, 
and strolled slowly away. 

He hastened after and did his best 
to make her cheerful : he told her 
how delicious was the fruit ; how re- 
freshing to lie down when tired ; of 
the delightful heat of the sun when the 
wind blew cold, and how welcome the 
cooling wind and the shadowy places 
when the sun was over-hot. But she 
paid little attention, and appeared thor- 
oughly depressed, turning away as if 
mankind*^ had ceased to interest. She 
gazed about at the sky, the trees, the 
birds and butterflies, fixing her eyes, 
at last, with an absent look, upon a 
towering megatherium nibbling tree-tops 
in the distance. 

She plucked a flower and held it to 
her nostrils, then studied it in admi- 
ration. 

“ I can show you some that are 
much prettier than that,” he remarked 
in the tone of a man of the world who 
has travelled extensively and seen much. 

20 



HE DID PUS BEST TO MAKE HER CHEERFUL 






























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That First Affair 


“ Did you make this one ? ” she asked. 
“No!” 

“ Did you make all the rest ? ” 

“ All what ? ” 

“ Everything,” and with a little wave 
of her hand she indicated the trees and 
the distant hills. 

“ No, that was all finished when I 
came.” 

And pointing upward to the great 
white clouds floating majestically across 
the heavens, “ And did n’t you arrange 
those, either ? ” 

“ No ! ” And he saw in her face 
that the awe which he at first inspired 
was gone forever. 

Passing her hands through the long 
tresses that hung about her shoulders, 
at first in an idle way, she at last 
began to gather them into a definite 
shape. “ Your hair is very beautiful,” 
he remarked. “ How fast it must 
have grown ; and you so young ! ” 

She looked up at his own head 
and asked, after hesitating a moment, 

23 


That First Affair 


u What happened to yours ? Did some- 
thing bite it off ? ” 

w No ; it was never any longer.” 
“'That ’s too bad ! ” 
u Oh, I don’t care ; I supposed it 
was the regular thing until you turned 
up.” 

w I wish I could see my own face. 
I have no idea how I look.” 

“You look like me in a general 
way ; but you are far more beautiful of 
course, as I was only an experiment.” 

w How do you know how you 
look ? ” 

“ I have seen my reflection in 
water.” 

This was quite exciting; and she 
showed a livelier interest than in any 
subject they had yet approached. So 
together they started off to find the 
mirror. 

Beneath a certain apple-tree he paused 
a moment, and told her this was the 
forbidden fruit ; that of all else in the 
garden they could take what they wished, 
*4 


That First Affair 


but if they tasted this there would be a 
serious punishment. Then, continuing 
their walk, he brought her to a quiet 
nook by a river’s bank, and there} sur- 
prised and delighted, she gazed upon a 
fresh young face smiling back at her 
from the water. 

“ Why, how lovely ! I am not at all 
like you, and my hair is beautiful —— 
simply beautiful ! ” 

Then she began to arrange this hair 
in different fashions, trying new effects, 
he watching her like a creature beneath 
a spell. At last, turning toward him, a 
little color in her cheeks, she inquired 
with a smile of various meanings, 
“ How many men did you say there 
are in the world ? ” 

“One.” 

“ That ’s a great many, is n’t it ? ” 

“ You think one is a great many ! ” 

“ It seems so just now.” 

He laughed and strolled away. She 
called after him, “ And I will let you 
know when you are needed.” 

25 


That First Affair 


After a while, when tired of her own 
face and of rearranging her hair, she 
looked about for other pleasures. The 
world was young, and so was she, 
and there were fresh surprises on every 
side, — in the colors and perfumes of 
the flowers, in the clouds, the birds, 
and the whispering trees. For a happy 
period, no one knows how long, she 
played about, until at last, throwing 
herself upon a shady bank to rest a 
little, she recognized in the branches 
above her head the apples of the for- 
bidden tree. But she was a good girl 

— so far — and resisted a temptation — 
quite a strong temptation, just to know 
how it tasted. As thus she lay, a lan- 
guor came stealing through her brain ; 
her eyelids shut out the light ; her 
senses seemed to float away, and then 

— all was as nothing. 

From this sleep she was gently awak- 
ened by the pressure of a diminutive 
hand upon her heart, and warm lips 

against her own. Opening her eyes, 
26 


That First Affair 


at first slowly, and then wider in alarm, 
she looked upon a curious little being 
who leaned over her with a mischievous 
smile upon his cherubic face. He was 
short, very plump, and quite a hand- 
some boy. She sat up and pushed 
him back, a look both of 
fear and indignation in her 
face. But he continued to 
smile, and said, — 

u Oh, don’t be angry. 

You will understand it 
later. You don’t know 
me yet.” 

u No, I do not.” 
u I am the serpent.” 
u The serpent ? ” 
u Yes. Do I look it ? ” 

She did not answer, as she felt he 
was not serious, and she had begun to 
fear him. In his face and manner 
there was a recklessness and audacity 
that augmented her distrust ; moreover, 
his lips were amorous and his eyes were 
bold. The impression given was of 

27 



That First Affair 


an impulsive, happy person, warm and 
open-hearted perhaps, but who loved the 
Devil and was full thereof. Had he 
worn a halo, it would not have been 
straight upon his head, but cocked to 
one side, and he would have doffed it 
to every girl he met. 

u Yes,” he went on, his hands upon 
his hips ; w I am the tempter, the thing 
that is to bring disgrace upon you, — 
upon you, the mother of the human 
race.” 

His speech was meaningless, at least 
to her, and she began to regard him as 
some evil spirit. 

u Are you a man ? ” she whispered. 

“ A man? No; I am the essence 
of all men, — of the millions yet un- 
born. I am the sap and soul of human 
life, the realization of lovers’ dreams. 
I am the absorbing and resistless pas- 
sion ; the one undying thing ; the ever- 
lasting joy and torture. That ’s what 
I am!” 

He smiled as he spoke, yet tnere 

28 


That First Affair 


was enough of earnestness to convince 
his listener that he was something of 
importance. The more she studied him 
the more she yielded to an indefinable 
bewitchment. He seemed to exercise 
a dangerous spell, and she looked un- 
easily about. Her thoughts flew to the 
man, whose absence she now 
regretted, and she remem- 
bered him with a warmer 
interest and a deeper long- 
ing than she had yet ex- 
perienced. 

u You kind of half 
know what love is, don’t 


you 


?” exclaimed her new 



acquaintance. “ Whenever 
you think of that fellow you feel this 
way.” And, reaching out his arms, he 
moved them slowly up and down, wig- 
gling every finger ; u and it goes tingling 
all through you, up your spine, along 
your drunken nerves, and into your nice 
little heart. It brings the color to your 
cheeks and the light of Heaven to your 
29 


That First Affair 


eyes. Oh, it is the big thing of crea- 
tion ! ” and then, as she tried to hide 
her embarrassment by a careless smile, 
finally putting her hands before her face, 
he laughed aloud, a triumphant, mock- 
ing laugh, threw himself upon the grass, 
and repeated, as he rolled over and over 
among the flowers, “What fun this is!” 

Then he sat up and said with a 
smile, — an exasperating smile of supe- 
rior wisdom, — 

“Tell me honestly what you think 
of him ? ” 

In spite of herself, the color came 
into her cheeks. 

“ Who ? ” 

“ Who ? ” he repeated in a jeering 
tone. “ Who, indeed ? There are so 
many.” 

“ You are an impudent little thing.” 

“Worse than that,” he replied. “I 
am the wicked thing that tempted 
Eve ; ” and he hunched up his shoulders 
and rubbed his hands in a kind of reck- 
less glee. 

30 


That First Affair 


a That tempted whom ? ” 
u You. But tell me honestly if the 
world is not pleasanter since you took 
that nap. Is n’t the sky bluer, the air 
softer ? Are n’t the flowers more fra- 
grant ? and is n’t your heart a heap 
sight fuller since I had the 
honor of awakening you ? ’ 

Again the color came to her 
cheeks as she replied, with 
a frown, “ I don’t know 
why I should talk about 
it to every stranger 
who comes along.” 

“True; but you are not likely to 
encounter many strangers, and, besides, 
I am an exceptional person. I am an 
institution by myself, — a whole prin- 
ciple, in fact, — and a huge one, too.” 

“You are here for mischief, I am 
sure of that.” 

He laughed again. “For love and 
trouble, that ’s what I am here for.” 

“ Must they go together? ” 

“ Well, yes ; I suppose they must. 
31 





That First Affair 

You see love requires that two shall be 
in it.” 

She nodded. 

Then, with a solemn shake of his 
head, “ There ’s trouble right away.” 

She reflected a moment, then replied, 
“ I don’t see why.” 

u Because one at least is in love. 
If the man, for instance, could pine 
away for love of himself, for what is 
already his ; if he could be satisfied 
with holding his own hand, sitting in 
his own lap, breathing love into his 
own ear, and after all, peihaps, chang- 
ing his mind and throwing himself 
over at the end, — you can see how 
much suffering would be avoided. And 
the same with a woman. No ; it ’s 
having two that will lead to complica- 
tions.” 

“ But how do you know all this when 
nothing has happened, — before any- 
thing is tried ? ” 

u By eating that fruit,” he answered 
pointing to the branches above her head. 

3 * 


That First Affair 


cc By the way, have an apple,” and 
he proffered one. 

But she pushed it away. w That is the 
tree of knowledge, the forbidden fruit.” 

u Oh, come now ! what do apples 
grow for? You will never have any 
fun, unless you know enough to take 
it. [t ’s the best fruit in the garden. 
Do you want to be a brainless old 
goody, and never know what life is — 
to say nothing of blighting the hopes of 
the only lover in the world ? Eat it, 
and trust me. I can furnish you more 
fun and tragedy, more poetry and life, 
than the deepest ignorance can ever 
offer. Besides, you won’t get another 
such chance for a finished education 
with so little trouble.” 

She was puzzled. There were too 
many new ideas in this, and they came 
rapidly for a brain not three hours old. 
u What do you mean ? ” 
ic This being the tree of knowledge, 
it follows that the more you eat the more 
you will know ; and you will know things 
3 33 


That First Affair 


you ought n’t to know, which is consid- 
erable sport, as you can imagine.” 

Although she smiled and nodded in 
approval she could not avoid a suspicion 
that, for inexperienced maidens, he was 
not the safest guide. 

w But we are commanded not to eat 
it, and to disobey would be 
ong.” 



u Look here,” he said, 
cocking his head to one side 
and half closing his eyes. 
“You are inclined to be 


too superior. Now, be- 
ware of an excess of 
virtue. It is a good 


thing, like water, purifying 


while you are in it, but too much 
of it becomes the chill of death. Take 
my advice and eat that apple. It will 
bring a scrap of wisdom, and that man 
will like you all the better for being a 
little cleverer than himself.” 

“ Are you sure ? ” 


“ Sure.” 


34 


That First Affair 


She still hesitated, but finally bit into 
it cautiously, and made a little face. 

w Why, it is n’t as good as it looks ! 
It is bitter, and yet,” after another bite, 
— cc it has a sweet taste.” 

Then she finished the whole apple 
and, as she tossed aside the core, in- 
quired, — 

“If I eat another shall I be wiser 
still ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Then give me another.” 

But he squatted upon the grass in 
front of her and said, — 

“ Just wait a minute, and hear a 
word before you go on. In the first 
place, wisdom and fun are two dif- 
ferent things. Now, if you eat too 
many apples you will be too wise to 
fall in love with that man.” 

“ I don’t see why ! ” she exclaimed. 
“ I should love him all the same. He 
is not a fool.” 

“ Yes, he is, or he would be with you 
now.” 


35 


That First Affair 


w But I sent him off.” 
w What did you say to him ? ” 

She remembered her clever little 
speech, and smiled. u I told him one 
man was too many.” 

u One man too many for a woman ! 
Well, that would make a holopty chips 
laugh.” 

Seeing that she failed to comprehend, 
he edged a little nearer and laid a hand 
on her knee. 

u Excuse me ; but you are still very 
simple in certain directions. However, 
if you eat any more of these apples you 
will be too far ahead of the man.” 
cc But he can eat the apples too.” 

The fatling shook his head. 
w What you want from that man is 
an absorbing love, is it not ? ” 
w Oh, yes ! ” 

u And if that love were so tempest- 
uous and all-conquering as to blind his 
reason you would not complain.” 
w No, never ! ” 

w Well, it hurts me to say it, but 
3 6 


That First Affair 


excessive wisdom is not a safe com- 
panion for that kind of love.” 

u Then he shall never taste an 
apple ! ” 

“ You had better let him have one, — 
just one, — or it may all end in a kind 
of toleration on your part, which is 
also dangerous. You don’t want him 
too dull.” 

“Well, he shall eat one; but only 
one” 

“ You are a sensible girl. And there 
is one thing more I ought to tell you; 
that is, that you will have to leave this 
garden, now that you have eaten the 
apple.” 

This alarmed her, and she exclaimed 
reproachfully, “ And you made me do 
it ! ” 

“Yes; but you never could have 
lived without it. You see this garden is 
laid out exclusively for frigid old maids, 
— hard-headed, apathetic old maids, — 
who abominate men. Now, I would n’t 
live in it if I could, and I know that 


37 


That First Affair 


man would n’t either. And you are 
not the girl to be happy in here all by 
yourself, with us fellows outside.” 
cc No, I certainly am not ! ” 
u Good for you ! I knew you were 
not. So there is no damage done. 
The fun begins earlier, that’s all. Now 
good-by, fori must leave you; 
but I shall be within call if 
you ever need me ; ” and 
with a knowing smile he 
added, “Don’t be cruel to 
him.” 

And he skipped away, 
half running, half fly- 
ing, singing as he went ; 
and she noticed that 
birds and animals pricked up their ears 
as if his song was interesting, certain 
of them following the singer, and always 
in pairs. She wondered who and what 
he was, and had little doubt of his be- 
ing a person of importance. 

And she was right. He was a per- 
son of considerable importance. And 
38 



That First Affair 


ever since that day — which was so 
long ago that no human being pre- 
tends to reckon it — he has led man- 
kind the liveliest jig, upsetting the 
natural course of history, dispensing 
joy and agony with reckless waste, 
and making hopeless fools of men 
and women of every class and sta- 
tion, and of all ages, colors and condi- 
tions. And he is at it still. 

He was hardly out of sight before 
she began upon a second apple. That 
clever little stranger might be correct 
in theory but her instinct told her, that 
in any relations between the sexes, 
there could be no possible disadvantage 
to the woman if she were a trifle 
wiser than the man. After the second 
apple she realized a mental change — a 
quicker insight, a clearer comprehen- 
sion, and, not least, a splendid confi- 
dence in herself that alone was worth 
the price of all. She felt able to cope 
with any masculine adversary. And 
that second apple easily explains — at 
39 


That First Affair 


least in this writer’s opinion — certain 
mental differences between men and 
women that have flourished ever since 
that day. 

When the man returned, uncertain 
of his reception, for he had heard no 
call, he found the belle of the garden 
reclining beneath the apple-tree, weaving 
a sash of vine-leaves. For, among the 
various ideas that had come to her since 
partaking of the fruit, was a yearning 
for personal decoration, — that desire to 
wear something which has since de- 
veloped into such unreasoning dimen- 
sions. Throwing himself upon the grass 
at her feet, he began with his old argu- 
ment, that they marry at once, like the 
rest of the world, and go to house- 
keeping. For a time she made no 
answer, fearing he might suspect, either 
by her language or by her manner, that 
she was not the simple maid he had 
known but an hour ago. 

At last she moved her lips, raised her 
eyebrows, and held her head a trifle to 

40 


That First Affair 


one side, as if trying to think well of a 
poor suggestion. 

“ Come,” he urged, “ what do you 
say ? It is a splendid idea.” 
u There is no hurry.” 

M As well do it now as later.” 
u As later ? You speak as if it were 
sure to happen sometime ; but I don ? t 
know why ! ” 

w Because everybody else is married, 
birds, beasts and fishes, everything, from 
the elephant to the ant. It ’s a law of 
nature, an example we certainly ought 
to follow ; and a fine one, too ! ” 

w But there is not the least hurry, and 
you must remember that I never met 
you before to-day. However, I will 
think about it and tell you later.” 

“ Oh, don’t say that. It is mourn- 
ful to be alone. Why, the world is a 
different thing since you came into 
it.” 

w Thank you ; but I would like to 
look about a little before I settle down. 
I have seen nothing yet.” 


4-1 


That First Affair 


“ We ’ll see it all on our wedding 
journey. I will take you everywhere. 
Come, please say yes.” 

She shook her head. w This is all 
dreadfully sudden ; and how do I know 
that your love for me is serious.” 
w Indeed it is ! ” 

“Am I worth a sacrifice ? ” 

“ Try me.” 

w Would you rather live alone in 
this beautiful garden, or with me out- 
side ? ” 

w With you outside, a thousand times 
over ! ” and he sat up with uplifted 
hand, as if taking an oath. 

w Then eat this,” and she took an 
apple from the ground beside her and 
held it toward him. 

It was rather sudden, and he had a 
wholesome reverence for the garden 
authorities. 

“ No,” he said with a shake of his 
head ; tc I will not do that, for we can 
both live here by letting the apples 
alone.” 


42 


That First Affair 


w But I have already eaten one.” 

“You have!” and he looked seri- 
ously alarmed. 

“ I have,” she answered calmly, and 
in her voice there was a shade of con- 
tempt. “ I hardly supposed your devo- 
tion would stand a very serious test.” 

“You didn’t? Then you made a 
mistake. I will eat a dozen ! ” and he 
took half the apple at a single bite. 

“ No ! you must eat but one ! ” 

“ Why ? How many did you eat ? ” 

She hesitated, then compromised with 
truth, and answered, as she looked 
calmly into his eyes, “ One.” 

He finished the apple, then looked 
up with a smile. “ Now are you 
satisfied ? ” 

“Yes, partly. You have given a 
proof of your sincerity, but you cannot 
expect me to fall in love at such very 
short notice and with the first man I 
meet.” 

“ Why not ? You can’t do better, 
no matter how long you wait ; ” and 
43 


That First Affair 


he added with a smile, “I am your 
only chance.” 

“ A tempting assortment to pick from, 
but I must have time to consider. We 
never met before, and I know nothing 
whatever about you. Who are your 
parents ? Where do they live, and what 
sort of people are they ? ” 

For a moment he was disconcerted. 
Then he smiled as he answered, “ My 
parents, I fancy, are much like your 
own.” 

cc My own ! Why, have I parents ? ” 
u Have you never seen them ? ” 

“ No.” 

w Then probably you have n’t any.” 
“ Is it customary ? ” she inquired. 
w Is what customary ?” 

“ To have parents ? ” 

“ Not that I know of, but there 
would be no harm in them, I think. 
Young animals, I notice, depend en- 
tirely on their parents ; but you and I 
were never young, so we did n’t need 
them.” 


44 


That First Affair 


w 1 must say it seems more respect- 
able in a way. A man without parents 
is a terrible mystery. You may be 
some awful animal in disguise ; how 
do 1 know ? Is n’t there some one to 
refer me to ? Have you no relations, 
no antecedents whatever ? ” 

u No more than you have your- 
self.” 

This style of conversation was evi- 
dently beginning to annoy the suitor ; 
but she could not resist having a little 
more fun with him, and replied, with 
exasperating sweetness, — 

w But I don’t ask you to marry me. 
I should certainly be rather hasty, to 
say the least, if I presented myself to 
the first person I encountered, when 
others are surely coming later.” 

u Other women may come too,” he 
retorted. 

“ Then you can have one ; ” with 
which reply she arose and walked 
away. He remained seated upon 
the grass, also pretending to be more 
45 


That First Affair 


offended than he was, and thus came 
the first lovers’ quarrel, similar in mo- 
tive, execution, and result to the un- 
numbered millions that have followed 
since. 

The cruel maiden disappeared among 
the antediluvian plants, not halting until 
well out of sight, and then she turned 
and peered through the leaves, and 
watched him. And when, a moment 
later, he started after her, she ran further 
into the forest seeking out-of-the-way 
places, that his search might be in 
vain. There was a sense of triumph 
in this, and a pleasant excitement, as 
the apples had taught her the impor- 
tance of not yielding too easily. Of 
time she took no thought, until in 
sudden terror she realized what was 
going on about her. It had all been 
so gradual as to escape her notice ; 
but now the trees, the sky, and all the 
flowers began to lose their color, and 
those at a distance disappeared entirely. 
They had vanished and ceased to exist. 

46 


That First Affair 


At least, so it seemed to one of her 
brief experience, and there was no one 
to explain. 

The big luminary had disappeared 
behind a line of purple mountains that 
seemed, in that direction, to mark the 
edges of the world. She saw with 
alarm that a peculiar change was creep- 
ing over the earth. The air was 

damper ; the resplendent, many-colored 
world she had known so short a time 
ago had died away. In place of the 
bright blue sky with its shining clouds, 
there came, enveloping all things, a 
solid mass of threatening black, through 
which myriads of little eyes were glit- 
tering with a cold, unearthly light. She 
trod on unfamiliar things, and they 
tickled the soles of her tender, inex- 
perienced feet. Twigs and branches 
and mysterious things seemed to reach 
out and touch her, like wicked fingers, 
and she shrunk and grew weaker with 
every step. She dared not call aloud, 
for he might be far away, and these 
47 


That First Affair 


other things would hear her voice and 
might eat her up. 

At last, sinking to the ground, she 
wept from fear, for whatever existed was 
surely coming to an end. Crouching 
at the mercy of unknown things, with 
hope and courage gone, the approach- 
ing footsteps of some invisible creature 
brought a climax to her terror. But 
this terror changed suddenly to an over- 
whelming happiness as she recognized 
the outline of a human form. 

With a joyful cry she ran toward 
him. The trembling figure found a 
welcome refuge in the encircling arms, 
and the encircling arms were exceeding 
glad to hold her. 

The next morning, as they were 
finishing a simple but beatific breakfast, 
a dignified messenger, with wings and 
snowy draperies, appeared before them 
and gave official notice that they must 
quit the garden. But the apples had 
opened two pairs of eyes, and the youth 
48 


That First Affair 


marched out with head erect and a 
smiling face, for he knew he carried 
with him the flower of the universe, 
the only one of her kind. 

As for that loveless garden, nobody 
knows where it is. 

And nobody cares. 



4 


49 










































































Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 


























Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 

S Mrs. Chillingworth Lofter de- 



scended the grand staircase of 
her stately home, on the afternoon of 
November 2, she presented a sumptu- 
ous picture of dignity and patrician 
elegance, of complacency and of count- 
less dollars. No descendant of a hun- 
dred earls could be more aggressively 
aristocratic or more politely insolent 
than this daughter of four generations 
of solid and increasing millions. With 
features of perfect regularity, with an 
excellent figure and a commanding 
carriage, she was sometimes beautiful 
and always impressive. At the time 
of the brief adventure to be narrated, 
Mrs. Chillingworth Lofter was forty- 
one years of age. She looked younger. 


53 


Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 


The soothing and ever-present con- 
sciousness of being born a Topping 
was a wonderful preservative of youth. 
Although a little heavier than she her- 
self desired, the well-distributed weight 
only added to her dignity. 

She was attired for afternoon calls. 
Every detail of her toilet was in per- 
fect taste, and of unconsidered expense. 
Through the stained-glass window above 
her head, the sunlight, as if subdued 
and quivering at the hallowed touch, 
illumined in its reverent passage the 
united arms of the Lofters and the 
Toppings. 

As she swept leisurely toward the 
door, it opened wide, and the liveried 
servant bowed his head in solemn ado- 
ration, — just enough and not too far, 
— and she passed through and out. 
With a careless word to the footman 
she entered the brougham. He closed 
the door, touched his hat, and scrambled 
upon the box. In so doing, he seemed 
to have discarded his trousers, but this 
54 



. '7 


muu^i JJtatuL'ii liiLti I • , • * 1 1 i‘ 't c 


.i.ilitLtilUlul- 







Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 


was owing to the extreme tightness of 
his creamy breeches, and to a luminous 
quality they possessed when in motion. 
In another moment the sparkling equi- 
page was rolling down the Avenue. 
To certain occupants of other stylish 
equipages, and to occasional pedestrians 
whose gentility was publicly acknowl- 
edged, she gave nods of recognition. 
These salutations were masterpieces, 
being nicely graded from the cordial 
greeting for other immortals down to 
the perfunctory and chilling inclina- 
tion toward the social struggler whose 
future was still uncertain ; and all were 
executed with skill and precision. 

Her first call was in Washington 
Square, after which, on her way uptown, 
she stopped for a moment to be seen 
at a wedding then occurring at Grace 
Church. Upon entering the vestibule 
of this temple, she found herself ap- 
proaching a man by the name of Con- 
nor. She had met him once or twice 
at the house of a friend whose guests 
57 


Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 


were not always of the quality she most 
respected. This Mr. Connor, for in- 
stance, if one could judge from his 
somewhat diffident manner and careless 
raiment, was not accustomed to the re- 
fining influences of fashionable society* 
Knowing no reason why the acquaint- 
ance should be continued, she gave him 
on this, as on previous occasions, the 
most arctic nod in her repertoire ; and 
it was accompanied with a look that to 
a sensitive soul would have laid a heavy 
frost on any budding aspirations. How 
he took it concerned her little, and she 
looked indifferently beyond him, as, 
with her chin in the air, she brushed 
calmly by. 

On leaving the church, some moments 
later, she was approached by her foot- 
man, whose anxious face gave warning 
of disaster. One of the horses had a 
fit, — blind staggers, he thought, — and 
the coachman, with another man, was 
trying to get him home. Should he 
call a carriage ? 


58 


Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 


No, she would walk a little, then pos- 
sibly take a hansom at Union Square; 
and she started up Broadway. 

It was a beautiful afternoon, and she 
found walking a pleasure, but her attire 
was somewhat too heavy and too rich 
for the street. Besides, she had not 
the time. Consulting a memorandum 
in her card-case, West Thirty-third 
Street proved the nearest on her list ; 
decidedly too far to walk. Public cabs 
were out of the question, being hideously 
vulgar ; and one never knew who was 
in them last. At that moment a cable- 
car went by, and it certainly looked 
fresh and clean. It would take her 
within a block of where she wished to 
go. Then, within her, came a reckless 
resolve. 

At the corner of Twelfth Street she 
signalled one of these conveyances. It 
stopped, and she proceeded leisurely 
and with her usual impressiveness to 
get aboard. Behind her was another 
person, of whose existence she was un- 
59 


Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 


aware. As our heroine stepped upon 
the platform the conductor, who seemed 
in a hurry, and was, possibly, ignorant 
of her maiden name and of her social 
position, placed his hand between her 
shoulders, according to the custom of 
his kind, and gently hastened her pace. 
With an angry face she partially turned, 
to avoid the pollution, and shot a crush- 
ing glance at the ofFender. But he was 
looking elsewhere, and failed to receive 
it. Then, as she was about to enter 
the car, she found herself face to face 
with Mr. Connor. He was standing 
on the platform directly in front of her, 
and their eyes met. 

On the instant she determined to 
commit an act that might as well be 
accomplished now as later. As the 
gentleman raised his hand toward his 
hat, her eyes moved slowly from his 
face horizontally, with glacial indiffer- 
ence, and with no sign of recognition. 
A polar bear would have shivered be- 
neath its baleful rays. The deed was 
60 


Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 


brutal, perhaps, but it was executed 
with a frigidity and a self-possession 
that rendered it a work of art. Mr. 
Connor, with a sudden color in his 
cheeks, stopped his hand on its upward 
journey and stroked his mustache. Pos- 
sibly he was unaccustomed to just this 
manner of having advice delivered. 

She entered the car, followed by the 
passenger who also had just come 
aboard. Her entrance was majestic. 
Twenty pairs of eyes at once were 
fixed upon her with a pleasant interest : 
those of the men in admiration ; those 
of the women in envy and in awe. 
She brought with her, into this every- 
day scene, the atmosphere of a higher 
life, — an atmosphere of pride and of 
costly things ; of dainty nourishment ; 
of marble mansions and of bath-tubs 
lined with gold. The very rustle of 
her clothes seemed to indicate that the 
garments beneath were even richer than 
the outer glories. 

In the centre of the car she stopped 
61 


Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 


and turned about, facing, as she did so, 
the other new arrival. He was a citi- 
zen of African descent. His somewhat 
showy apparel indicated a love of color 
that was not fettered by convention. 
A sporty suit of reverberating checks, 
whose startling yellow suggested a sus- 
picion that its first owner lacked the 
courage to exhibit it himself, was en- 
hanced by an emerald-green cravat, held 
by a scarf-ring of bygone fashion. The 
striking feature of this scarf-ring was 
its gigantic ruby, which, if honest, was 
worth about thirty thousand dollars. 
But grave doubts as to the genuineness 
of this stone were invited by the ragged 
edges of the adjacent collar, which was 
not only conspicuously high, but very 
much soiled. Neither did his mani- 
festly ancient hat, which had attained 
to its present smoothness by the appli- 
cation of a moistened towel, seem a 
proper travelling companion for a jewel 
of such unusual value. His face, how- 
ever, was real ; and as Mrs. Chilling- 
62 


Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 


worth Lofter confronted him, he smiled 
pleasantly and made no effort to conceal 
his admiration. She was disgusted and 
looked freezingly beyond him. 

The car started forward, slowly, but 
with that rapidly increasing speed so 
misleading to the upright traveller. 
Mrs. Lofter leaned deferentially toward 
her showy vis-a-vis , and laid her hands 
caressingly upon his shoulders. They 
then bounded gracefully toward the 
door, with a step that was neither a 
waltz nor a polka, but which was exe- 
cuted in such perfect time that the 
ordinary observer would have suspected 
a previous rehearsal. Although differ- 
ing widely in color and in social stand” 
ing, these two travellers were, for the 
time being, certainly one in movement 
This movement was perhaps more of z 
galop than a polka, and although har- 
moniously executed became a little too 
hasty at the finish. The exhibition was 
brought to a close by her partner’s back 
coming in violent contact with the jamb 
63 


Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 


of the door. Although the dance itself 
was practically over, Mrs. Lofter con- 
tinued for a moment to press heavily 
against her dusky partner, and to one 
unaccustomed to these conveyances her 
action might appear of questionable 
taste even if prompted by the warmest 
affection. But to those familiar with 
the Broadway cable-cars there was 
nothing unusual in this performance, 
except, perhaps, the costly attire of the 
leading lady, and this added a certain 
novelty and richness to the general 
effect. As Mrs. Lofter, hot with in- 
dignation, released herself and stepped 
away from the grinning object of her 
caresses, a seat was offered which she 
gladly accepted. Once in it, she had 
leisure to look about. 

Although inwardly revolting against 
the sickening episode in which, to her 
everlasting humiliation, she had just 
taken so conspicuous a part, her glance 
swept the row of opposite faces with 
haughty composure. She bit her lips, 
6 4 


Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 

and there was defiance in her eyes, as 
she noticed a general smile throughout 
the car. Having no sense of humor 
herself, this cheerfulness seemed the 
acme of human insolence. All were 
either smiling or on the edge of it. A 
coarse-looking man in a corner, with 
curly hair and a fur collar, who looked 
like a ticket-agent for a circus, smiled 
boldly upon her with an open grin. 
Even the pale-faced little girl with the 
hollow eyes and phantom legs smiled 
timidly over the enormous box that 
rested in her lap. One person, an 
over-dressed girl, with her beau, actu- 
ally tittered aloud. But the most in- 
supportable of all, that which irritated 
Mrs. Lofter beyond her powers of en- 
durance, was an expression of pity and 
regret upon the face of a massive female 
who sat directly in front of her. This 
heavy, honest Irish face was elongated 
with compassion, and the kind blue 
eyes, as they looked mournfully in her 
own, seemed on the verge of tears. 

5 65 


Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 


They told of an inward lamentation that 
such a dignified lady should become an 
object of ridicule. Mrs. Lofter was 
unable to suppress an angry flush that 
flew to her face, but she behaved with 
magnificent composure, moving her 
eyes indifferently along the row of 
happy faces that seemed drawn up be- 
fore her like a squadron on parade. It 
was -well to let these wretches know 
that, although she and they might chance 
to occupy the same public conveyance, 
there existed a gulf so immeasurably 
vast that there could never be anything 
in common between them, not even 
her own anger. Upon the benevolent 
Hibernian opposite she lingered with an 
icy gaze that would have frozen the 
life-blood of any human being whose 
self-forgetfulness had been less. 

But why sit here and endure the 
vulgar insolence of this street-car ca- 
naille? She rose to quit the scene. 
Fortune, however, seemed to have aban- 
doned her, at least for that afternoon. 

66 


Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 


A more unpropitious moment was never 
selected for a dignified retreat. As she 
arose, her Irish vis-a-vis stood up, also 
with intent to leave the car. She had 
passed her street in the excitement of 
the little dance with which the grand 
lady had just favored the company. It 
was at this point that the car, having 
reached the sharp curve above Four- 
teenth Street, gave viciously, and with- 
out warning, a sudden wrench, throw- 
ing its head in one direction and its tail 
in another. The two women clinched, 
not in anger, but in a friendly tussle of 
the Graeco-Roman style. It promised to 
be the usual catch-as-catch-can struggle, 
although they held each other with a 
nervous frenzy not usual with profes- 
sionals. The movement of the car 
compelled Mrs. Lofter to throw her- 
self forward with a headlong fury that 
was evidently unexpected, for it thrust 
her ponderous but amiable adversary, 
with sickening force, upon the lap of 
an elderly gentleman who was perusing 
67 


Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 


his afternoon paper. As the news ot 
the day was jammed in crackling folds 
about his head, the visitor’s stalwart 
back pressed painfully against his nose, 
displacing his spectacles and knocking 
his hat to one side. In vain he struggled 
to pull the paper from his eyes, that he 
might realize the nature of the ava- 
lanche that was grinding him beneath 
its suffocating weight. But the enor- 
mous and seemingly immovable mass 
arose, and floated away as suddenly as 
it had come. 

Mrs. Lofter had the underhold* and 
was the more agile of the two, but her 
companion possessed harder muscles, 
and also a breadth of beam that became 
a factor of tremendous importance in a 
struggle where time is limited. As the 
car, with an unearthly yell from the 
machinery about its wheels, veered 
from northwest by west to a northeast 
course, the athletic washerwoman re- 
gained her equilibrium with a celerity 
that aroused the enthusiasm of every 
68 


Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 


passenger; and although in reality only 
trying to free herself from her richly 
attired assailant, she appeared first to 
shake her and wrench her about the 
aisle, and then, after lifting her from 
the floor, to slam her upon the oppo- 
site seat with vindictive rage. 

As Mrs. Lofter landed, she quivered 
from head to toe with the suddenness 
of the shock. Every stitch and button 
of her apparel seemed to have loosened. 
Pale from anger and outraged pride, 
she pressed her lips and made a super- 
human effort to control herself. With 
outward calmness she assured herself, 
with a touch, that her bonnet was on 
her head, and then, with a downward 
glance, that her clothing had not been 
torn from her body. 

In the mean time the other woman 
murmured an apology, stopped the car, 
and alighted. But of this, Mrs. Lofter 
had failed to take notice. She was too 
much occupied with her own sensa- 
tions to observe the movements of the 
69 


Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 


vulgar herd. Never in her life had 
she assisted in such a degrading scene. 
Never again would she put herself in a 
position where contact would be pos- 
sible with these dregs of humanity, this 
insufferable street-car rabble. 

A loud guffaw from the seat opposite 
brought a flush to her cheeks, and a 
gleam of anger to the contemptuous 
eyes. There sat, in a convulsion of 
mirth, a tall, thin-faced, red-bearded 
man, with an enormous Roman nose. 
His light-blue eyes were fixed merrily 
upon her own. One hand was slapping 
his knee in the very abandon of ecstasy. 
The other he pressed hard against his 
vest in the hope of preserving the co- 
hesion of his interior. His laugh was 
so hearty and contagious that if Mrs. 
Lofter had been a little more human 
she might possibly have smiled herself. 
She then noticed, in looking scornfully 
over the passengers, that all were laugh- 
ing. The nice old gentleman, who a 
moment before had been disconcerted 


70 


Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 


by the Hibernian catapult, was trying in 
vain to conceal his amusement. Two 
well-dressed girls were holding their 
handkerchiefs to their faces, and squirm- 
ing with uncontrollable glee. Even 
the anxious, over-worked conductor 
stood in the doorway with a cheerful 
grin. Every eye of the confronting 
faces was fixed merrily upon herself, 
and she saw that the entire company 
had surrendered to an offensive gayety 
which, instead of dying out, seemed to 
increase and amplify. Never had she 
dreamed of such barbarous manners ! 
Of course, she knew they were a com- 
mon lot, ill-bred, and hopelessly vulgar, 
or they would never be riding in a 
street-car ; but this persistent, brutal 
insolence, this inhuman disregard for oth- 
ers’ feelings, was more than a surprise. 
It was a shock. Could it be possible 
they had combined to affront her ? It 
required all her self-possession to look 
haughtily along the line, and let them 
guess at the infinity of her contempt. 

71 


/ 


4 


\ 



Mrs. Lofter’s Hide 


Suddenly her lips parted ; the hot 
blood rushed to her face ; her eyes be- 
came wider open. Was she sitting on 
a pair of — what ? They moved ! A 
little voice down behind her shoulders 
piped gently up and seemed to say : 

“ I beg your pardon, madam, but — ” 
Mrs. Lofter rose to her feet as if 
driven by electricity. Wheeling about, 
she looked down upon an overdressed 
little youth whose mouth was quivering 
in a pitiable effort to maintain a smile. 
His face was hotter than her own. 

It would seem that if any apology 
was due it should emanate from the 
person who, in a public place and with- 
out invitation, had occupied the lap of 
a harmless citizen. But the degrada- 
tion of her surroundings had driven 
from Mrs. Lofter’s mind all memory 
of conventional courtesies. As if the 
youth had not fully atoned for his un- 
committed sin, her cold eyes lingered 
for a second upon his changing face, 
and the glance was so laden with dis- 
7 z 



Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 


dain that the mortifying color came 
rushing to his cheeks. 

More of this would be unbearable. 

With imperious majesty she motioned 
the conductor to stop the car, and he 
pulled the bell. She stepped toward 
the door, not crestfallen, like a victim 
in retreat, but with firm eyes and head 
erect, proudly and with perfect com- 
posure, as a being so far above the 
encircling clay that the intervening 
space could not be measured by any 
standard within their ignoble compre- 
hension. 

But fortune seemed only waiting for 
a chance to smite heron the other cheek. 

The car stopped ; she alighted from 
the loathsome conveyance and stepped 
calmly toward the sidewalk. Before 
reaching it, however, the conductor 
called after her. She turned, and he 
held up his finger. What new affront 
was hidden beneath this gesture she 
made no effort to discover. 

But again he spoke, and this time 
73 


Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 

his voice was raised above the din of 
passing carriages, — 

“ Your fare, lady ! ” 

With an unpleasant chill she remem- 
bered that not a cent was in her imme- 
diate possession ; that she held only 
a card-case, and not even a pocket to 
her gown ; then, as a fit culmination to 
this degrading adventure, she saw Mr. 
Connor speak a word to the conductor 
and place a coin in his hand. In doing 
so he raised his hat, but without look- 
ing toward her. Mrs. Lofter’s face 
became first a fiery crimson, then pale 
with anger. 

Outwardly cool, inwardly at a white 
heat, she moved up Broadway in icy 
majesty. Just above Twentieth Street 
she saw coming toward her one of her 
most cherished friends ; one of the few 
women whom she thoroughly envied. 
Miss Winifred Taileur was exception- 
ally pretty, enormously wealthy, and the 
sister-in-law of titled foreigners. One 
of these purchases was an English 
74 


Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 


duke ; the other a Marquis of la Haute 
Noblesse. The duke was coarse in his 
manners, and a physical wreck. The 
marquis was a professional gambler. 
But in the heart of Mrs. Chillingworth 
Lofter the family who had achieved a 
nobleman was forever sanctified, what- 
ever the individual’s physical pollution 
or moral dearth. For Miss Winifred 
Taileur she cherished a respect that 
was akin to adoration. It is perhaps 
unnecessary to say that this friend’s 
social standing was yet more dazzling 
than her own. 

An agonizing chill drew our hero- 
ine’s lips together as she perceived, to 
her horror, that Winifred was accompa- 
nied by the inevitable Connor. More- 
over, they appeared on excellent terms. 
Could she believe her eyes ? An inti- 
macy between a Taileur and this un- 
known thing ! 

Miss Winifred came beaming toward 
her with effusive greeting, for they had 
not met since April. 

75 


Mrs. Lofter* s Ride 


“ Why, Helen ! I am so glad to see 
you ! How well you look ! Such a 
splendid color ! ” Then, after further 
salutations, and turning partly about, 
ct Let me introduce — ” 

But Mr. Connor had strolled away 
and was waiting farther on. 

“ Why, the brute ! He did n’t wait. 
I must tell you, Helen,” and a most 
conventional and proper little blush 
came reluctantly to her cheeks. ct You 
are the first to know it, outside the 
family, but Mr. Connor and I — ” 

Mrs. Lofter almost staggered beneath 
the news. Her friend misinterpreted 
the emotion. 

“ I knew you would be interested, 
and I am sure you will be great friends. 
He is a love, and is certain to come 
into the title within a year or two.” 

“ Title ! ” gasped Mrs. Lofter. 
“ What title ? ” 

“ Why, I thought you knew. He is 
a nephew of Lord Blathers, the swellest 
peer in Ireland — and the sickest.” 

76 


Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 


And Winifred’s smile was one of sor- 
row and of hope. 

When they parted, a moment later, 
Mrs. Lofter felt in no condition for 
making calls. She hurried home ; and 
as her fellow-travellers of the cable-car 
were fresh in her mind, she burned her 
gloves, had her wrap hung out for an 
airing, and she herself took a very hot 
bath. 

Then, sufficiently purified in body to 
approach her Creator, she knelt with 
bowed head upon a prie-dieu that had 
belonged to Catherine de Medicis, and 
for which her husband had paid twenty 
thousand francs. Her prayer, while 
ostensibly in thankfulness for her many 
blessings, was, if the Deity to whom it 
was addressed had cared to read be- 
tween the lines, a respectful but firm 
demand for a more watchful guardian- 
ship over the choicer lambkins of his 
flock. While too well-bred to openly 
rebuke a Beneficent Being for His 
shortcomings, she felt that a plain 
77 


Mrs. Lofter’s Ride 


statement concerning her recent dese- 
cration was a pious duty. And while 
wishing the common herd no immedi- 
ate punishment for their backslidings, 
it would certainly be well if they were 
suddenly brought to a proper respect 
for higher things. 

Whether this prayer miscarried, from 
being obscurely worded, Mrs. Lofter 
never learned, but no reward for her 
martyrdom was received that evening. 
The martyrdom was, on the contrary, 
prolonged until a late hour, as they 
dined at the Bondenwaters, and the 
gentleman who took her out to dinner 
was the future nobleman whose repug- 
nance and contempt she had so ably 
won that afternoon, — he who had de- 
frayed the expenses of the most mor- 
tifying and debasing exhibition ever 
given by a Topping. 


78 


Two Portraits 



























































































































Two Portraits 


I 

JN the old-fashioned library of an old- 
fashioned house a young man, near 
an open window, sat writing at a desk. 
He had pleasant eyes and a pleasant 
mouth, and the sunburnt face seemed 
all the browner from its contrast with 
the light, almost straw-colored hair. 

After folding his letter he sealed and 
directed the envelope and affixed a 
stamp ; then he leaned back with a 
look of relief. Although a good son, 
this letter to his mother had been an 
unwelcome effort, as the present visit 
to his grandfather was absolutely with- 
out incident ; and, besides, she knew 
more of the house, the neighbors, and 
the old gentleman himself than any 
other person could ever tell her. Nev- 
6 81 


Two Portraits 


ertheless, he had covered four pages, 
and felt now like receiving his reward ; 
like doing something foolish, something 
to be ashamed of later. He could go 
to the village, but it offered no dissipa- 
tions beyond tepid beer and bad cigars, 
and for these he felt no yearnings. 

For a young man just out of college 
the world has little to teach, and as he 
thought of the gouty grandfather in the 
chamber above, and realized that this 
visit was to continue four days longer, 
he began to regret that creation, in its 
final results, should prove so flat and 
uneventful. 

Again, for the twentieth time, he 
looked across the library to the portrait 
of a girl in an old-fashioned hat, who 
seemed forever on the point of smiling, 
yet never did it. She, whoever she 
was, with her black hair and tranquil 
eyes, had a gentle, somewhat sad ex- 
pression, and yet, about the mouth there 
was a suggestion of mischief. And the 
smile seemed so very imminent that he 
82 



THE PORTRAIT OF A GIRL IN AN OLD-FASHIONED HAT 


.. ... -■ 




























































Two Portraits 


disliked to turn away for fear of miss- 
ing it. He not only smiled himself, as 
he had often done before, as a form of 
encouragement, but this time he leaned 
forward and addressed her, — 

“ Please do it. Just once ! ” 

But the prayer was not answered. 
He looked out the window with the 
melancholy gaze of a disappointed lover ; 
then a foolish look came over his face; 
the look of a foolish man with a foolish 
idea who has resolved upon a foolish 
thing. He took half a sheet of note- 
paper and raised his pen to write. What 
he wrote seemed to come with an 
effort : — 

“ If there is in this world a girl like you, 
Then count me a lover, stanch and true.” 

Looking over at the portrait, he said 
in a very low tone and with an apolo- 
getic air, “ I am not a poet, you know, 
but the sentiment is correct.” 

Folding it twice, until it became 
quite a narrow strip, he stepped over 
to the silent girl and pushed his mes- 


Two Portraits 


sage between the canvas and the frame. 
This brought relief. The foolish thing 
was done. Perhaps it was more fool- 
ish than the conditions required, but 
without defining it he felt that in mat- 
ters of love no barriers are more chill- 
ing than caution and common-sense. 

u And, besides, ” he muttered, as his 
gaze rested affectionately upon the eyes 
that seemed so very near a smile, u it 
is no one’s business but our own, and 
I know you will never tell.” 

He stepped back and gravely threw 
a kiss to the face above him, then 
politely, and with becoming deference, 
retreated toward the door. 

As he ascended the stairs he made a 
bold resolve. He would ask the old 
gentleman, point-blank, who the paint- 
ing represented. It would be a natural 
question. Yet, on the other hand, he 
knew his grandfather never alluded to 
it, and he also knew, from the house- 
keeper, that the portrait had never ap- 
peared in the house until after his 
86 


Two Portraits 


grandmother’s death ; and ever since 
it had held the place of honor in the 
library. 

Between the two men, as they sat 
facing each other, the physical resem- 
blance was striking. Both were tall 
and slight, with narrow faces, long 
noses, and pointed chins. Their eyes 
were of the same shade of blue, and 
upon both heads the stiff, straight hair 
was alike, except that with the older 
man the original straw-color had faded 
to a yellowish gray. But a closer look 
at the two faces revealed a fundamen- 
tal difference in expression. With the 
grandfather there were unmistakable 
indications of an unamiable and ag- 
gressive spirit, and of that despotic 
intolerance that is so often the result 
of long habits of authority. The old 
man himself was not aware of these 
distinctions, and it gave him constant 
pleasure to believe, as he looked upon 
the frank, sunny face of his grandson, 
that the only difference was that of 
87 


Two Portraits 


years. Whereas the youth, although 
taking no pride in his own appearance, 
felt a mild regret that as an older man 
he should look precisely like his grand- 
father. But these fears were un- 

founded. In him were the well-springs 
of undying cheerfulness ; of that per- 
petual youth which years can never 

“ How is your foot, grandfather ? 
Any better ? ” 

w No. Yes, perhaps it is. Did you 
write to your mother ? ” 

w Yes, sir. Four pages.” 

u And probably forgot everything she 
wants to know.’ , 

u No, sir, not everything. I told her 
about — ” 

“ Oh, that ’s all right. Don’t tell 
me, for I know it already.” And he 
shook his head in a manner that was 
intended to convey the impression of a 
playful spirit. Seeing a promising con- 
dition for experiment, the young man 
ventured his question. 

88 


Two Portraits 


“ Grandfather, who is that pretty girl 
in the old-fashioned hat above the library 
mantel ? I never saw a more interest- 
ing face. ,, 

The tyrannical blue eyes rested upon 
his own for an instant, as if in indeci- 
sion. u She is an English girl I knew 
a long time ago, when I was your 
age. We were great friends, and day 
after to-morrow when you leave I shall 
give you a letter to her. She and her 
daughter live a little way from London. 
And when you get to England next 
month I want you to go there, whether 
you feel like it or not.” 

u All right, sir. I promise. And 
did she give you that life-size painting 
of herself? ” 

“ Yes.” 

w She must have been very fond of 
you.” 

“ Possibly.” 

There was a pause, during which 
they both looked out the window, over 
the orchard to the meadows beyond. 

89 


Two Portraits 


A happy thought entered the head of 
the investigator. Perhaps this daughter 
was the image of her mother ! He hesi- 
tated, then asked, “ Is there more than 
one daughtei ? ” 
u Only one.” 

Then, in an offhand, indifferent way, 
“ Does she resemble the portrait? ” 

“ Not at all. She is rather pretty, 
but she may have changed. It is forty 
years since I saw her.” 

Forty years ! Cyrus Harding felt 
himself a broken-hearted man ; and a 
very foolish one. 

“ Oh, of course. How stupid ! ” 
u Stupid ? Why stupid ! ” 

There was a blush on the grand- 
son’s face, and he turned it toward the 
window. 

“ I was only thinking she was 
younger.” 

There was another pause, and each 
seemed lost in his separate revery. At 
last the younger man, whose thoughts 
were still with the portrait, asked, in 
90 


Two Portraits 


a gentle, somewhat absent manner, his 
eyes still fixed upon the meadows, — 

“ Were you in love with each other ? ” 
As no answer came, he looked to- 
ward his ancestor, and he realized his 
mistake. The chin was raised, the 
lips compressed, two hostile eyes were 
fixed coldly upon him, while nervous 
fingers tapped angrily on the table. 

w Cyrus,” he said, slowly, in a voice 
tremulous with suppressed wrath, u if 
you live a hundred years longer you 
may learn that a little tact is a more 
gentlemanly quality than your brazen 
impudence. Try it.” 

He waved his hand as if to end the 
interview. The young man rose and 
stammered an apology as he moved 
toward the door; he said he spoke 
without thinking, and was sincerely 
sorry to have given offence. 

cc That is all right,” said the old 
gentleman, with a perfunctory, unfor- 
giving smile ; u I was hasty myself. 
Excuse me.” 


91 


Two Portraits 


Two hours later, after his lonely 
supper, he strolled out into the garden, 
which was also lonely, and where all 
the melancholy little sounds of a sum- 
mer evening seemed the utterances of 
other and yet more lonely spirits. The 
voice of a whippoorwill from a neigh- 
boring grove betrayed the wavering 
courage of a forsaken soul. And the 
moon, as she rose above the orchard, 
gazed sadly upon him, as if she too, 
in her eternal solitude, yearned for a 
companionship of which she found no 
promise. He strolled dreamily about 
the old garden and encouraged the 
belief that if the original of that exas- 
perating portrait were only here, the 
world would be always interesting ; 
then with a bitter smile he murmured, 
u Grandad and I don’t seem to have 
much luck with our favorite girls.” 

After a few turns he entered the 
house, and without intention directed 
his footsteps toward the library. A 
sleepy lamp upon the table illumined 


92 



HE STROLLED DREAMILY ABOUT THE OLD GARDEN 







































































Two Portraits 


the space immediately around it, but 
left the rest of the room in obscurity. 
Cyrus threw himself upon a sofa, and, 
with his eyes upon the portrait, now 
barely visible in the shadowy light, was 
soon lost in a peaceful revery. 

But he could see that she was look- 
ing at him. And such a spell was 
wrought by the silence and the gloom 
that if, in answer to his own imaginings, 
the lips had parted and she had spoken, 
he would hardly have been surprised. 
An audible conversation between the 
old-fashioned bookcase and the tall 
clock ticking in the corner would have 
been in perfect harmony with the 
mysterious, half-living atmosphere that 
enveloped the various objects and him- 
self. And these objects were all of a 
character to meet a ghost halfway. 
Every article was of a bygone fashion, 
and, save usage and repairs, the little 
library was precisely as it existed when 
his grandfather’s father had furnished 
the house over seventy years ago. 

95 


Two Portraits 


Everything was old, — the paper on the 
walls, the curtains, the carpet, the pic- 
tures, and all the furniture. The only 
signs of youth were this girl and him- 
self. And she was fifty ! 

As he gazed upon her face in the 
everlasting hope that the impossible 
might occur, he detected a little white 
corner of his note projecting beyond the 
edge of the frame. Had he been so 
careless ? Could he have left it in such 
a clumsy way that the first comer might 
discover it ? And when he recalled 
what a silly note it was, he jumped from 
the sofa and pulled it out. As he held 
the paper between his fingers to tear it 
into bits, it seemed thinner and of a dif- 
ferent texture than when he folded it 
three hours ago ; and he took it to the 
light. 

This certainly was another kind of 
paper, finer, more transparent, and even 
doubled in a different fashion ! And 
was it a mild perfume that came to his 
nostrils in the unfolding ? He started 
96 


Two Portraits 


when he saw the writing, — a daintier 
hand than his own, more carefully writ- 
ten, and with a finer pen. 

“ Thank you j but I have no mind 
For a lover so perversely blind.” 

He dropped it upon the table and re- 
turned hastily to the picture. 

“ Blind ? ” he asked in an anxious 
whisper. “ Why do you say that ? 
Why am I blind ? ” 

The eyes, through the dim light, 
looked down into his own and came 
nearer smiling than ever before. They 
also seemed more mischievous, and as 
he bent nearer to catch the answer they 
took a frightened look, as if annoyed. 

Beneath the lamp he re-read the note. 
The lines seemed fainter; and as he 
gazed, they grew dimmer and dimmer, 
slowly fading from his sight, until, upon 
the white surface of the paper, there was 
no trace of writing. Returning to the 
portrait, he demanded, — 

ct What is it I ought to see ? Why 
not tell me ? ” 


7 


97 


Two Portraits 





back 
of the 
painting, 
the frame, the 
canvas, and felt 
everywhere for 
something, he 
knew not what. 

But dust and 
disappointment 
were all he found. 

Returning to the table, he sat down 
and wrote, — 


WHAT IS IT I OUGHT TO SEE 
WHY NOT TELL ME? 


But no answer came. Then, re- 
moving the shade from the lamp, he 
stood upon a chair and 
carefully examined the 




? 


Two Portraits 


** Why do you say I am blind ? Why give 
such a meaningless answer when you know I 
am in earnest ? For me your face shall always 
be the first and dearest. 

( * Please answer. C. H." 

This note, like its predecessor, was 
carefully folded, then tucked in the 
same place, between the canvas and the 
frame. A moment later, in his most 
engaging manner, he bowed gracefully 
to the silent girl and left the room. 

The next morning, at the earliest 
opportunity, with a respectful, although 
a conquering air, he approached the 
portrait. There was in his manner a 
certain brusqueness and assurance whose 
object was to remind the lady that she 
was in honor bound, by their previous 
intercourse, to refrain from disappointing 
him. With outward calm, but with 
inward nervousness, he drew a folded 
paper from its hiding-place. 

It was his own epistle. He frowned 
at the dark eyes that looked tranquilly 
into his own ; and never had they 
seemed so unresponsive. To judge 
99 


Two Portraits 



from their calm, unrecognizing stare, he 
might have been a stranger. If they 
told him anything, they told him he 
had been too familiar ; and as they 
bore every appearance 
of reading his own 
consciousness of de- 
feat, a flush came 
creeping over his 
face. His 
own blood 
was mocking 
him ! And 
this embar- 
rassment from 
a picture ! 

He laughed, 
but there was 
no mirth in it. 
Jamming the 
note into a pocket, he marched angrily 
from the room. But in the hall repent- 
ance overtook him, and he turned about. 
He would give her one more chance. 
If the eyes were plaintive or sad, as he 


IOO 


Two Portraits 


had often seen them, all would be for- 
given. Glancing severely in her direc- 
tion as he stood in the doorway, he saw, 
to his mortification, that she had either 
been laughing or was just going to. 

Let her ! Who cared ? And whist- 
ling loudly a tune he hated, he picked 
up his hat and left the house. 

“ All for a picture \ and of a woman 
who came within an ace of being my 
grandmother ! ” 

But late that night, when there was 
no light in the room and all was so dark 
that even the eyes of the portrait could 
not detect him, he shoved his note into 
its old place between her shoulder and 
the frame. And there he left it. 


JOI 


Two Portraits 


II 

One month later Cyrus Harding got 
into a train at the Victoria Station and 
allowed himself to be dragged from the 
City of London into the County of 
Kent. His grandfather’s letter had de- 
veloped into a nuisance of depressing 
importance now that its presentation 
was imminent. It was to keep him 
twenty-four hours from London, where 
his time was worth something ; and all 
for a useless ceremony of no possible 
benefit to anybody. That a young man 
should travel forty miles in a drenching 
rain to bore an old lady because she 
once knew his grandfather was a folly 
for which he could find no justification. 
His only solace was from the conscious- 
ness of his own wisdom in selecting for 
this errand a day so atrociously uncom- 
fortable that its loss was of small im- 


102 


I 


Two Portraits 

portance. And the storm showed no 
signs of deserting him. A heavier, 
wetter, more industrious rain he had 
never seen. 

At the 
tion where 
alighted h 
found an an 
cient convey 
ance, small but 
unreasonably 
ponderous, and 
this he entered. 

The driver, a 
very old man, 
who might have 
been the brother 
of the vehicle, knew 
well the Caine- 
Vedder house, and 
headed his dripping horse in an oppo- 
site direction from the village whose 
church tower and picturesque chimneys 
Cyrus had seen through the rain from 
the car window. 

103 




Two Portraits 


About a mile from the station they 
turned from the turnpike into a private 
driveway. The driveway lay along the 
edge of a wood, and swept in a long 
curve around a lawn of several acres, 
in the centre of which was a stagnant 
pond. This lawn, or rather field, for 
it was covered with high, coarse grass, 



and evidently allowed to. take care of it- 
self, afforded an excellent view of a 
rambling, irregular structure, long, low, 
of unrelated parts, some of stone and 
some of brick, with here and there an 
ivy-covered wall through which the 
windows were hardly visible. 

The door was opened by a venerable 
104 


Two Portraits 


maid, who ushered him into a spacious, 
quaint old drawing-room. While she 
went upstairs with his letter of introduc- 
tion, he amused himself by studying the 
unusual apartment in which he found 
himself. It was a long but narrow 
room, with lofty, deep-embrasured, mul- 
lioned windows that looked upon the 
lawn. His grandfather’s house, which 
heretofore he had considered as the 
most old-fashioned habitation upon the 
earth, was, as compared with this, a 
museum of modern improvements. 
Here were indications of an antiquity 
beside which his own homestead was a 
frivolous babe. 

The carved ceiling, the panelled 
wainscot, white but discolored, that 
extended to the cornice ; the long 
mantel, the faded tapestry, the curious 
old portraits, all formed a harmony so 
solemn and subduing that he shrunk 
from moving about, for fear of awaken- 
ing some indefinable thing whose slum- 
bers he might disturb. 

i°5 


Two Portraits 



As his gaze moved reverentially 
along the walls, it fell upon a little 
portrait that caused him an unexpected 

sensation. His 
eyes opened 
wider in 
surprise 


as he looked more carefully to make 
sure it was no deception. 

A portrait of himself! 

He arose, and, going nearer, made a 
closer investigation. His own self was 
staring calmly back, amiably but with 
io 6 


A PORTRAIT OF HIMSELF! 


Two Portraits 


unfamiliar seriousness, and certainly 
there was no mistake. 

He blinked, then drew his hand 
across his eyes. His mystification was 
complete. And there was something 
weird and upsetting in thus scrutinizing 
a face so unmistakably his own. He 
was hopelessly puzzled ; but, a moment 
later, he understood. At home the older 
people had often spoken of the striking 
resemblance between his grandfather 
and himself ; so striking was it that at 
the same age they could have passed 
for twins. And this, probably, was a 
portrait he had given to the original of 
the painting in America. He smiled at 
this further unfolding of the old gentle- 
man’s secret. 

The rustling of a gown caused him 
to wheel suddenly about and to face a 
second surprise far more upsetting and 
important than the first. 

The portrait in America had come 
to life and was standing before him ! 

Young, fresh, with a girlish figure, 
107 


Two Portraits 


and the same eyes ; her hair arranged 
precisely as in the likeness beyond the 
sea ! She returned his look with an 
expression of astonishment more intense 
than his own. The lips parted, — those 
lips whose double curves he knew so 
well ! She uttered a whispered excla- 
mation, then took a backward step, in 
serious alarm, and groped about with a 
hand, as if seeking support. 

Cyrus, in his own excitement, neg- 
lected to remember that this young 
lady had every reason to believe that 
she was confronted by the spirit of a 
youth who had sat for the likeness 
behind him over fifty years ago. 

He came nearer to get a better look, 
and she retreated step by step, as he 
approached. Finally, recalling himself, 
he apologized : — 

“ I beg your pardon, but I am so fa- 
miliar with your face — I mean I have 
seen your portrait so often — that is, a 
portrait of your grandmother, perhaps, 
that I was very much surprised.” 

10S 


' 











THE PORTRAIT IN AMERICA HAD COME TO LIFE 













Two Portraits 


Thereupon she recovered her own 
composure and waved him toward a 
chair. 

“ Please be seated ; ” and she placed 
herself upon a little sofa some distance 
away. This extreme formality embar- 
rassed him. Then, partly from habit, 
and partly from that mental vacuum 
which visits the best of men at critical 
moments, he alluded to the weather. 
u It is a pleasant day.” 

She looked toward the storm that was 
blowing the rain in drenching sheets 
across the lawn, and answered with a 
serious face, — 
u Yes, it is.” 

Then there was a pause which she 
was the first to break. 

a My grandmother will be ready to 
see you in a moment. She is an invalid 
and seldom comes downstairs.” 

What a pleasant voice ! It was low 
and soft, and he waited a moment in 
the hope that she would go on and say 
something more. Regarding her more 


Two Portraits 


carefully, he was struck anew by the 
amazing resemblance to the picture. 
No painter, whatever his skill, could 
have reproduced with greater faithful- 
ness, or with more precision, the details 
of the face before him. As she looked 
up from the folded hands in her lap 
and encountered his earnest gaze, she 
seemed surprised and somewhat embar- 
rassed. Ashamed of thus staring her 
out of countenance, he hastened to re- 
trieve himself. 

w It is curious a likeness painted so 
long ago should bear such a startling 
resemblance to another person.” 

Involuntarily her eyes moved to the 
little portrait near the chimney, then 
back to the speaker. There certainly 
was no doubt of the resemblance. The 
painting was an accurate transcript in 
color, features, and expression, of his 
own face, which at that moment was 
turned toward the window. He was 
doing his best to think of an appropriate 
remark. There was something in this 


Two Portraits 


girl’s presence that stimulated him to 2 
brilliant effort, yet his head was never 
so empty. 

“Yes, it is quite remarkable,” she 
acquiesced. 

Then with a glance in which he 
intended to convey only as much admi- 
ration as was consistent with a first 
interview, he added, — 

tc Attractive as it is, however, it falls 
far short of doing justice to the de- 
scendant of the sitter.” 

She looked at him in surprise. And 
at this moment he detected, for the first 
time, that expression he knew so well, 
as of repressing a smile. For a second 
the smile became almost perceptible, 
then disappeared. 

w This is a case,” he continued, “ that 
proves a portrait can be a truthful like- 
ness, and yet miss the greatest charm 
of the person whom at the present 
moment it most resembles.” 

Again she regarded him with wide- 
open eyes. She had heard that men 


Two Portraits 


were vain, bat for this stupendous, 
overpowering mixture of simplicity and 
conceit she was unprepared. To be 
sure, he was the first American she had 
ever met, and this inspired her to an 
heroic effort to consider him from his 
own point of view. 

With his best smile he went on, — 

“ No face could make a stronger oi 
more lasting impression, for no face 
that I have ever seen represents so 
much that is lovable and winning.” 

Her lips parted for a polite acquies- 
cence, but the voice failed to respond. 
In this man’s complacent vanity there 
was something so grotesque, so over- 
whelming and incredible, that her organs 
of speech suffered a temporary paralysis. 
She sat facing him in dumb surprise. 
Cyrus saw this look, but mistook its 
cause. He now remembered that Eng- 
lish girls were considered more simple 
than their American cousins; that their 
wits were less nimble and their percep- 
tions duller. She evidently had not 


Two Portraits 


understood him. He must use a heavier 
hand. Guided by this happy thought, 
he added, — 

u In the portrait, while the hair, the 
eyes and mouth are all of exquisite 
beauty, one cannot help feeling, in spite 
of its wealth of expression, that the 
artist has not done justice to the living 
face it so strongly resembles.” 

She began to be annoyed, and some- 
what alarmed. And yet, with her alarm, 
she felt a sympathy. In spite of his 
nauseating vanity, the voice and bearing 
were those of a gentleman, and there 
was something in his manner that belied 
the vainglory of his words. Cyrus was 
quick to perceive that these speeches 
were unwelcome. Leaning back in his 
chair, he concluded by saying, — 

“ Excuse me if my speaking in this 
way has offended you, but you would un- 
derstand if you could see the portrait. ” 
“ I am familiar with your portrait.” 
u With my portrait ? ” 

“You mean that one, I suppose ? ” 
1 1 5 


Two Portraits 


and she bowed coldly toward the 
chimney. 

Cyrus blushed to the very roots of 
his straw-colored hair. What an ass 
she must think him ! 

“Oh, no ! Please don’t think 
that ! ” he exclaimed, straightening up. 
u I referred to the portrait of your- 
self — I mean your grandmother — in 
America ! ’* 

Again he saw the familiar look as if 
she had just been laughing, or was on 
the verge of it. This increased his 
embarrassment, and he began a further 
explanation. But there was a step in 
the hall as of a lame person, and with 
it the rustle of an approaching gown. 
He felt a serious grudge against her 
grandmother for arriving at such a 
moment. 

As the old lady entered he looked in 
vain for some resemblance to the paint- 
ing in America ; but whatever similarity 
might formerly have existed had evi- 
dently long since departed. E^en the 


Two Portraits 


features and proportions of the head 
seemed altered. The upper lip was 
longer, the whole face heavier, and, it 
appeared to him, of a harder expression 
than in the olden days. He made a 
low bow and advanced to take the 
hand of welcome when offered. 

u Your grandmother says as she is 
ready to see the gentleman, Miss Ethel, 
and ’opes he will walk upstairs.” 

Cyrus straightened up. Anothei 
blush, hotter than the first, spread over 
his face, and he felt it behind his ears 
as it wandered leisurely to the back of 
his neck and tingled down his spine. 

“Very well,” the young lady an- 
swered ; “ we will go up at once.” 

Cyrus turned his eyes, toward Miss 
Vedder’s face. In her own eyes and 
about the edges of her mouth he found 
the exasperating look that used to mys- 
tify him in the portrait, but now inten- 
sified to a positive smile; gentle and 
evanescent, half mischievous, and evi- 
dently enjoyable to the owner. And 
117 


Two Portraits 


this time really there. At this another 
blush, deeper, hotter, and slower than 
the last, crawled over his angry face and 
then, as it were, seated itself to further 
enjoy the situation. With these ances- 
tral blushes, which only assailed him 
when least endurable, he had also in- 
herited a hot, sudden little temper; and 
for the moment he felt a strong desire 
to slam a door in these women’s faces 
and march out into the storm. 

When he fully recovered his senses, 
he was upstairs in a large, old-fashioned 
chamber, talking calmly and with out- 
ward amiability to the unmistakable 
original of the portrait. The hair was 
white, the features changed with pass- 
ing years ; but it was a handsome, kindly, 
high-bred face, and he felt like offering 
a humble apology when he compared 
it with the tough old visage of the 
housekeeper. Mrs. Caine-Vedder gave 
him a cordial welcome, was sincerely 
glad to see him, and insisted upon his 
promising them a little visit. 





HE MADE A LOW HOW 























































































































Two Portraits 


The result was that three days later 
Cyrus, with his trunk, came down from 
London for a fortnight’s sojourn in this 
weather-stained, ivy-bound, restful old 
homestead. 


rtf 


Two Portraits 


III 

In the deep recess of one of the 
Tudor windows of the drawing-room 
were seated Cyrus and the granddaugh- 
ter of the portrait. It was the golden 
twilight of an October afternoon, that 
mysterious hour when the human being 
with a poem in his soul finds it toying 
with his brain ; when proudest hearts 
yield to the bondage that, since love 
began, has brought unspeakable happi- 
ness or enduring grief. 

Then is the hour for care and cir- 
cumspection ; and then is the hour 
when care and circumspection are of- 
fensive to a lover’s soul. 

The maiden’s eyes were turned to- * 
ward the light, looking over the un- 
kept lawn to the golden band along 
the western sky. Her thoughts might 
be many miles away, but the young 


133 


Two Portraits 


man was not deceived by appearances. 
While she gazed thus absently upon 
nothing in particular, he, with no as- 
sumption of indifference, was studying 
in beatific content the dainty head and 
face that seemed unconscious of his 
existence. But the dark eyes at last 
turned slowly toward him. 

tc Is it the custom in America to 
stare at a girl until she has to leave the 
room ? ” 

“Yes; when there is nothing else 
to look at.” 

“ There is your own portrait. It 
seems to excite your enthusiasm more 
than anything else in the house.” 

u Oh, rub it in! You don’t mind 
hitting a man when he ’s down.” 

“ But you are never down. You 
are always up.” 

cc Why do you say that ? ” 

“ Because you are irrepressible. At 
times almost unendurable.” 

u Thank you. I wonder if all Eng- 
lish girls are so subtle in their praises ; 

123 


Two Portraits 


so overflowing with gentleness and 
tender consideration for others.” 

“ No ; but they would be if pursued 
day after day by obnoxious invaders 
who insisted upon marrying them in 
spite of themselves ; if from unexpected 
corners, wherever they went, offers of 
marriage were perpetually jumping out. 
Take to-day as a specimen. This morn- 
ing all the time we rode, and afterwards 
at golf, then all through the woods to the 
village and back, the same persistent, 
sulky, bullying foreigner at my elbow 
insisting that I shall fall in love with 
him. And here you are again ; and 
you have been at it for an hour ! ” 

With a long-drawn sigh the haughty 
little head leaned wearily back against 
the panelling of the window. Cyrus 
seemed absorbed in the sunset and made 
no reply. There was a long pause, 
which at last she broke by asking : 
u Is it getting ready for a storm ? ” 
u Probably. That is the usual con- 
dition on this soggy little island.” 

124 , 


•Two Portraits 


After another silence he continued : 

w Although I shall never see you 
again, I am glad to have been here. ,, 

w Thank you.” 

w I am glad to have seen with my 
own eyes a type of woman I had read 
about, but in whose existence I never 
believed, — the woman of inviting ex- 
terior, still young, yet with a heart too 
cold and tough for human affection.” 

“ Yes ? ” 

u A parrot or a fat old cat will easily 
absorb what superfluous love you will 
ever bestow upon anything outside 
yourself.” 

A faint smile came into the face of 
Miss Ethel Vedder, but Cyrus missed 
it. 

U I suppose,” he went on, “you will 
marry the usual bad-mannered, long- 
upper-lipped, self-satisfied, dull-witted, 
brandy-and-soda Englishman.” 

u If I can catch him.” 

From his end of the window came 
a long-drawn sigh, followed by a gen- 
125 


Two Portraits 


tie humming and a poor accompa- 
niment by his fingers on a pane of 
glass. 

“Well, after to-morrow you will be 
rid of me ; ” and he arose and strode 
away from the window. With his 
hands in his pockets he stood gazing 
gloomily upon the full-length portrait 
of a cavalier of the time of Charles 
the First. 

u Who is this mean-faced old fool in 
pantalets ? ” 

Her eyes turned lazily in that 
cirection. 

“ A gentleman who never forced 
his way into private houses to insult 
the ancestors of his hostess. ,, 

Cyrus smiled, and returning to the 
window resumed his seat, but this time 
the distance between himself and the 
lady was considerably less. Leaning 
forward, he began earnestly, — 

“ Oh, Ethel — ” 

tc You must n’t call me that.” 

“Why keep this up? You know 
126 



you mustn’t call me that 



















Two Portraits 


I love you sincerely, with my whole 
soul, as I never — ” 

“ There you go again ! ” and with a 
sigh, as from a patient spirit that is 
finally goaded beyond endurance, she 
arose and walked away. He followed 
and stood beside her, near the fire. 

“Very well, then, you shall have no 
more of it. I have annoyed you for 
the last — ” 

u Did you do that ? ” she interrupted 
in an excited whisper, catching him by 
the arm and pointing toward the wall. 

“ Do what ? ” 

“ The paper in that frame ! Did 
you put it there?” 

He saw something white, like the 
corner of a note, projecting from the 
inner edge of the frame that held 
the little portrait of his grandfather. 

“No. I did not.” 

In her agitation she appeared to for- 
get her antipathy to the young man, and 
the grasp upon his arm was not relaxed. 

“ I will tell you something,” she went 
9 1 2 9 


Two Portraits 


on, in the same hurried whisper. u No, 
I won’t either ; ” and withdrawing her 
hand, she advanced timidly toward the 
picture, took the paper from its place, 
and went over to the window. There 
she read it carefully, once, and then a 
second time. He had followed her 
across the room, and as she stood be- 
fore him in the glow of the fading sun- 
set, another and a deeper glow came 
creeping over her face. Lowering her 
eyes, and in a voice so faint that he 
bent forward to catch it, she said : 

“ I think, on the whole, that I will 
tell you.” 

Then, turning away her eyes to avoid 
his own, she continued : “ One even- 
ing, about this hour, a month or two 
ago, I was sitting in that old chair 
facing your port — your grandfather’s 
portrait, — and I was wondering if the 
original of the face was as interesting 
as the picture.” 

u Really, did you do that ? ” 

“ But that was before meeting the 
130 


Two Portraits 


obnoxious American who happens to 
resemble it.” 

w That speech is more like you ; ” 
and he turned away and looked out 
the window. 

“Well, as I sat there I saw, in the 
dim light, the edge of a note, and as I 
watched the little white point it came 
further and further out, as if slowly 
pushed from behind. I thought I must 
be dreaming, but there it certainly was, 
and no human hands were near it. 
You may think me silly, but I was 
frightened and left the room. I came 
back, however, mustered all my cour- 
age, and took it to my chamber. There 
were two lines, — 

<£ 1 If in all this world there ’s a girl like you, 

1 hen count me a lover stanch and true.’ ” 

As these words reached his ears, 
Cyrus bent forward in speechless aston- 
ishment with a look so strained and 
so eager that she stopped short in her 
story. 


Two Portraits 


w Why, what is the matter ? ” 
u Did you answer that note ? ” he 
asked, still bending forward with the 
keenest interest. 

“ Yes.” 

“ And you tucked your answer in 
the frame yonder ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And you wrote, — 

“ ‘ Thank you, but I have no mind 
For a lover so perversely blind. ’ ” 

It was the young lady’s turn to be 
surprised, and her eyes opened wide in 
amazement. 

“ Why, how did you know ! ” 
w Because I received it in Amer- 
ica. I found it in the corner of the 
portrait of yourself where I placed the 
first.” 

“ You placed the first ! You wrote 
it ? ” 

“ I did.” 

She took a step backward and leaned 
against the side of the window. With 


132 


Two Portraits 

her astonishment there was also a touch 
of fear. 

“ But, tell me,” he said, cc why you 
wrote c perversely blind ’ ? Why was I 
blind ? ” 

cc Because the stupid youth who sent 
the message had his eyes upon me all 
the time, and yet pretended to doubt 
my existence.” 

Cyrus smiled. cc Of course ! And I 
hardly slept that night for trying to 
guess what you meant.” 

u Then you wrote this one, too ? ” 
and she held forth the note that was 
just received. 

He read it aloud, — 

“ Why do you say I am blind ? Why give 
such a meaningless answer when you know I 
am in earnest ? For me your face shall always 
be the first and dearest. 

“ Please answer. C. H.” 

Mystified, he looked into her face, 
then down again at the paper. 

“Yes. I wrote it. These are my 
initials. Why did n’t you answer ? ” 
133 


Two Portraits 


For a moment she was too much 
overcome to reply. Gazing at hirn in 
silence, she was wondering what inex- 
plicable power had seen fit to concern 
itself with this affair. It was super- 
natural ; so fairy-like and miraculous, 
so beyond her comprehension, that it 
brought a feeling of awe and a mild, 
indefinable terror. But when he re- 
peated his question, she answered, — 
u How could I ? It was getting too 
serious, and I had no idea from whom 
it came. And, besides, to tell the truth, 
I was a little frightened. In fact, I am 
now,” she added with a nervous laugh, 
“ for it is all very mysterious. How 
do you explain it ? ” 

Cyrus smiled and came a little nearer. 
u By the intervention of an immortal 
messenger, — the little god who helps 
true lovers.” 

Again the color was in her cheeks, 
and that look about the mouth he knew 
so well ; then a smile that set his pulse 
to beating faster. 


134 


Two Portraits 


tc Perhaps you are right,” she said, 
and held out her hands. 

But the young man ignored the 
hands, and took the girl herself into his 
arms. 



i3S 














The Man Who Vanished 


















. 



























The Man Who Vanished 


CERTAIN hunter, clad in appro- 
priate raiment, and armed with 
a fowling-piece of costly mechanism, 
sought diversion in a forest. 

His first effort was a failure. The 
squirrel at which he aimed darted around 
the tree as the trigger was pulled, and 
looked down with an irritating expres- 
sion. There was a look in his eye 
which seemed to say, — 
u Not this time, smarty ! ” 

And the movement was executed 
with a nervous twitching of the tail — 
itself an impertinence. 

The hunter, a man of dignity and 
social position, was justly annoyed by 
this want of consideration, and he fired 
again. But the agile native continued 


The Man Who Vanished 


to keep the trunk of the tree between 
them. At last the hunter, disgusted 
by the animal’s self-will, passed on for 
other game. 

He had been reared by pious parents ; 
and that one of the lower animals should 
thus take upon himself to oppose the 
will of man, created in God’s image, 
brought a shock to his higher nature, 
and, for the time being, almost shook 
his faith in Providence. But this faith, 
a few minutes later, was re-established. 
Taking deliberate and careful aim at 
a noisy woodpecker, and pulling the 
trigger before the bird was aware of his 
presence, he brought him to the ground 
with his head nearly severed from his 
body. Leaning the gun against a tree, 
he stepped forward and picked up the 
corpse. By one of its legs he held it 
before him and admired its beauty ; and 
there came a thrill of pride that he had 
done his work so well. As thus 
he stood, in silent contemplation, the 
crackling of a twig made him turn 


40 


The Man Who Vanished 


about, and the thing he saw drove the 
blood from his cheeks. A large brown 
bear, erect upon his hind legs, his eyes 
on a level with his own, stood within a 
dozen feet, his arms akimbo, and a smile 
upon his face. A cold tremor crawled 
up the hunter’s spine, as, with dilated 
eyes and fallen jaw, he took a back- 
ward step. One step only, and then he 
stopped, for his knees seemed giving 
way beneath him. 

“ That was a good shot,” said the 
bear, with a pleasant nod, but his smile, 
although far-reaching and persistent, did 
not seem, to the hunter, the outward 
expression of an inward benevolence. 
u Had a grudge against him ? ” 

The man tried to answer, but his 
lips were dry, and his tongue refused to 
work ; so he shook his head. 

u Noisy, perhaps, but he was a good 
enough fellow. I know his wife; a 
nice bird. She ’ll be sorry. But ’t was 
a good shot, although you did take him 
at a disadvantage ; eh ? ” 

141 


The Man Who Vanished 


u I suppose I did,” whispered the 
hunter, whose voice was hoarse and 
came with difficulty. 

lc Shot him because you are uncom- 
fortably empty ? ” inquired the bear, 
still smiling, as he glanced at the gen- 
erous waist of his companion. 

“ Oh, no.” 

tc From public spirit, perhaps ? You 
thought the world better without him ? ” 
“ No.” 

“Just for the fun of it ? ” 
u I suppose so.” 

“Well, it’s good sport. That is, 
of course, for the chap who holds the 
gun.” 

The sportsman stole a glance toward 
his weapon, which, unfortunately, was 
the other side of the offensive brute. 

“ Is n’t it ? ” 

“ Er-what ? ” 

“ You seem nervous,” and the crea- 
ture laughed, his loose sides shaking 
as if something funny had been said. 
“ You don’t want that gun. It might 

142 



THE THING HE SAW DROVE THE BLOOD FROM HIS CHEEKS 




















































The Man Who Vanished 


go off and hurt something. We are 
safer without it.” And he continued 
to smile. “ You seem embarrassed,” 
he said with another offensive chuckle. 
u I am afraid you are not enjoying 
yourself. You don’t appear to possess 
a very fine sense of humor.” 

The hunter did not answer. He was 
considering the chances of making a 
dash to one side, then jumping for the 
gun. The bear seemed to divine this 
intent, for he laid a paw, with the claws 
out, on the gentleman’s sleeve, saying in 
a cheery, conversational manner, — 

“ It ’s curious what a difference in 
results the position of a gun can make. 
If, for instance, you had held on to that 
weapon you would have bear’s meat to 
spare, to say nothing of a splendid 
hearth-rug for next winter. Whereas 
now you postpone the bear’s meat, 
and that hearth-rug will serve for 
my overcoat, and a warm one, too. 
Loose, perhaps, but a nice comfort- 
able fit.” 


IO 


145 


The Man Who Vanished 


The hunter could not answer. His 
lips moved, but there was no sound. 
The stern voice that brought terror to 
all in his employ — and even to his 
own family — had fled to some remote 
corner of his interior, and refused to 
come forth. 

“ It must require some courage to 
march into the forest, armed only with 
a shot-gun, among all these blood- 
thirsty birds and squirrels. But then, of 
course, a hunter has to take chances.” 

There was a silence, for the man 
said nothing. He was trying to get his 
wits together, but it required all his 
intellect to keep his knees from letting 
him down. 

w By the way, what ’s the price of 
bear’s meat this morning ? ” 

“ I don’t know.” 

The man tried to edge away, but the 
claws were still in the sleeve. 

w Excuse my reverting to it, but 
did you kill that woodpecker in self- 
defence ? ” 


146 


The Man Who Vanished 


“ No.” 

u Children starving ? ” 

“ No.” 

u From a general sense of duty, 
perhaps ? ” 

u No. Just for sport.” 

“ I am glad you approve of that sort 
of thing, as it gives me your own 
personal indorsement of a little plan of 
my own. I am something of a hunter 
myself.” 

“ Yes ? ” 

u Oh, yes ! But I do it for busi- 
ness. I have a family to feed, and 
they are hungry now. When I left 
home this morning, I gave my w T ord 
that I would bring a dinner or not re- 
turn, and a fellow takes a big risk in 
getting between a hunter and his gun, 
especially when they are less than ten 
feet apart. By the way, what time 
is it ? ” 

The hunter looked at his watch. 

“ How your hand trembles ! Does 
it always shake like that ? ” 

147 


The Man Who Vanished 


“ No.” 

u Only when you are tired ? ” 

“ Perhaps,” and his voice was a 
hoarse whisper. 

“ What you need is a rest ; a good 
long one. But what time did you say 
it was ? ” 

u Ten minutes of eleven.” 

“ Why, we ought to dine at noon, 
and they expect me to bring the dinner. 
Won’t you come and fill a place ? I 
might say, fill several places.” And 
again his sides began to shake. “ I 
don’t know how much of a diner-out 
you are, but you will never be of more 
service at a meal than you will to-day.” 

Then, placing his paw inside the 
hunter’s arm, they started off. The 
host seemed amiable and tried his best, 
as they walked along, to engage his 
guest in conversation, but the man ap- 
peared depressed, and was silent. He 
simply answered questions until the 
bear inquired if he had a family. 

u Yes, I have ! a wife and two chil- 
148 



THERE WAS SOON A GREAT REJOICING 



























































































The Man Who Vanished 


dren. Think of them if you have no 
consideration for me ! ” 

They stopped, and stood facing each 
other, but there was always a paw on 
the hunter’s arm. 

“ Are they starving ? ” 

“ No.” 

u But if they were starving and I 
had appeared in your front yard this 
morning, can you give me your word 
of honor there would not have been 
bear for dinner ? ” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ No, I suppose not. But as my 
wife and three daughters are dying of 
starvation, literally fading away before 
my eyes, I know that you, as a father, 
will not blame me for supplying them 
with a square meal. And, by the way, 
if it were your good fortune to serve as 
a banquet for a nice family of bears — 
a thoroughly appreciative and grateful 
family — would it make any difference 
to you in what style you were brought 
on ? ” 


The Man Who Vanished 


The hunter licked his lips and 
wobbled his jaw, but he failed to 
answer, and they disappeared among 
the trees. 

There was soon a great rejoicing in 
the Bruin family. And later on, hav- 
ing rid themselves of that goneness 
which is the inevitable result of meals 
too long deferred, they passed a fuller 
and a happier afternoon than they had 
known for many months. 

This tale is not a sad one even from 
a human point of view, as the man was 
wealthy and very close, and his family, 
had he lived, would have derived little 
benefit from his money. Moreover, 
he was a bully at home and used to 
open his wife’s letters. 


152 


A Bachelor’s Supper 



















A Bachelor’s Supper 


HEN one man has served another 



for twenty years as valet, chamber- 
maid and errand-boy, he not only ac- 
quires an accurate knowledge of his 
master’s life and habits, but he forms 
definite opinions as to his inner man 
and past career. Moreover, there are 
few secrets he has not guessed at. 

Old Clem knew Mr. Valentine had 
led a comfortable and uneventful bach- 
elor existence during the last dozen 


He also knew, or rather had 


heard, that as a younger man he had 
tasted freely of life’s pleasures ; that his 
youth had been jolly and his manhood 
genial. Now, a handsome old gentle- 
man of seventy, always courteous and 
sometimes merry, with a well-behaved 


A Bachelor’s Supper 


constitution and a sufficient fortune, he 
was gliding gracefully down the shady 
side of life. Although still an occa- 
sional diner-out, he seldom entertained 
in his own apartments and Clem was 
naturally surprised, the night before 
Christmas, on being told to have the 
table set for eight people at half-past 
eleven. It was then nearly ten o’clock. 

“ But, sah, dey ain’t suppah for no 
eight people ! ” 

u Never mind that, Clem.” 
u Never mind de suppah ! Den 
whar ’s de use in settin’ places ? ” 

u That ’s all right, Clem ; you just 
set the table, and put on the very best 
china. Put on the best we have or 
everything. It is a sudden idea of 
mine, — a little Christmas celebration, 
— and I want it as perfect as possible.” 

Clem’s dark face expressed a mild 
disapproval, and he asked with a touch 
of irony, — 
w Any wine ? ” 

“ Yes, put on one bottle of that old 
i5 


A Bachelor’s Supper 

Madeira,” and then added as if to him- 
self, w that is a ladies’ wine.” 

M Ladies ! ” said Clem, and this time 
there was fearless disapprobation in 
his tone. w Is der to be nuthin’ but 
ladies ? ” 

But Mr. Valentine seemed to be 
drifting off into a revery, and made no 
answer. Clem waited a moment, then 
left the room. With serious misgiv- 
ings he began the preparations for what 
promised to be an exceptionally unsatis- 
fying banquet. 

As Mr. Valentine sat before the fire, 
his clean-cut features and handsome 
eyes made it easy to believe the stories 
of his early successes with the gentler 
sex. Although over seventy, he re- 
tained the bearing and manner of a 
youngish man. 

And now, in his big chair, the half- 
closed eyes shutting out the scene before 
him, he goes back some forty years to 
a certain ball-room on an eventful sum- 
mer night. He takes her from the 
157 


A Bachelor’s Supper 

other dancers out into the moonlight, 
down to the little boat-house. And 
then, just for the joke of it, she in her 
ball-dress, he in a swallow-tail, they get 
into a boat and row over to the island, 



the music from the shore filling the air 
about them. 

How long they stayed upon the rocks, 
how close they sat, or what he said to 
her or she to him, was never published ; 
but when they wish to return, the boat 
is gone. He sees it floating down the 
158 


A Bachelor’s Supper 

.river a hundred yards away. Then 
there is a clinging scene, she in her ball- 
dress and he in his swallow-tail, and he 
remembers the moist eyes and quivering 
lips. He hurries to the lower end of 
the island, removes the swallow-tail, — 
and everything else, — and plunging in, 
strikes out into the black river. The cur- 
rent is with him, and he reaches the boat. 
But the pulling back ! Now, in his old 
age, he wonders how he did it. Half 
an hour later they re-enter the ball-room, 
while the last dance is on. They also 
take a spin about the room, and no one 
suspects what has happened. 

He rose from his chair, with a long 
sigh, and stepped into the dining-room 
where Clem had started a fire and put a 
leaf in the table. These serious prepa- 
rations make him realize what a childish 
entertainment he is giving himself. 

u ’T is a tribute to them ; and who 
knows if I shall see another Christmas ? 
Moreover, if I choose to make a fool 
of myself, it is my own affair.” 

i59 


A Bachelor’s Supper 

Clem entered with a large pasteboard 
box. 

u Dis yer ’s just come, sah. It ’s 
flowers, I reckon.” 

u Ah, yes, those are the flowers. 
There are seven bunches in there, 
Clem. Put a bunch at each plate, ex- 
cept mine.” 

Clem retired to the kitchen ; and as 
he laid the box in a cool place, he re- 
marked to the cook, — 

“ Hope dey ’ll like der smell o’ dese 
yer flowers, for it looks mighty like dey 
was n’t goin’ ter git anything else.” 

Mr. Valentine in the mean time re- 
turned to his library and seated himself 
at an old-fashioned desk. From a little 
drawer he took a letter and a daguerro- 
type. The letter was yellow and con- 
siderably worn, with the appearance 
of having been opened and read and 
laid away a great many times. He 
placed it reverently before him and 
read once again the words he knew by 
heart : — 


A Bachelor’s Supper 

“ Silly Boy : 

u Do you take seriously everything a 
woman says? L. 

u P. S. — To-morrow afternoon about 
half-past three a foolish girl on a bobtail 
horse will be in that lane between the 
bridge and Holbrook's farm.” 

At this point something fell upon the 
page which Mr. Valentine blotted up 
carefully with his handkerchief. Lay- 
ing the daguerrotype upon the letter, 
he gazed silently upon the features of a 
raven beauty with gentle eyes and a 
most inviting mouth. As he laid the 
portrait and the letter back into the 
drawer, Clem appeared in the doorway. 

“ Sence dey ’s ter be some style at dis 
yer suppah, p’raps it ’ll be bettah ter have 
two to wait on de table. But as dey 
ain’t no food and only one bottle of wine, 
I s’pose I ’ll be enough.” 

“You ’ll be one too many, Clem. 
I want you to go to bed after the table 
is set, and not be around at all.” 


A Bachelor’s Supper 

u Not be around at all ! ” 

“ No, Clem. ,, 

u Den whose ter let de guests in ? ” 

“ Nobody — that is, I can do it my- 
self if necessary.” 

As his servant departed, he muttered, 
u What an old fool he thinks I am.” 

And the guess was not wide of the 
mark. Old Clem was seriously alarmed ; 
for although his master had never yet 
shown any of the usual symptoms of 
mental derangement, he knew those 
things often came suddenly and without 
warning. But he set the table with 
unusual care. 

At precisely half-past eleven he 
knocked at the door of Mr. Valentine’s 
chamber, and, receiving no answer after 
a second knock, he slowly opened the 
door. The old gentleman was lying 
upon the bed, apparently asleep. Clem 
noticed that he had donned a fresh shirt 
and a white cravat. As he touched his 
arm, Mr. Valentine slowly opened his 
eyes and at first did not seem to realize 

162 


A Bachelor’s Supper 

just where he was. He arose from the 
bed, however, and there was a little 
flush in each cheek that made his 
pleasant old face look younger than 
ever. 

“ Thank you, Clem,” he said. u I 
must have been asleep. I ’ll be right 
out.” 

Five minutes later Mr. Valentine en- 
tered the dining-room in full evening 
dress, with a rose in his coat, a smile 
upon his face, and the same rejuvenating 
flush upon his cheeks. Clem was sur- 
prised to see how young and fresh the 
old gentleman looked. He also realized 
that while his color was most becoming, 
and came and went as with a girl of 
sixteen, it might be an unfavorable 
symptom with a man of seventy. But 
Mr. Valentine was in excellent spirits, 
although quiet and, at intervals, even 
absent in his manner. His eye was 
bright and his step elastic as he made 
the tour of the table, giving here and 
there a finishing touch. He compli- 
163 


A Bachelor’s Supper 

merited Clem on his promptness and 
good taste. 

u And now, Clem,” he said, glancing 
at the tall clock in the corner of the 
room, “ you may go to bed. And 
remember you are not to return to- 
night, or even look into the room.” 

Seeing upon the black face a re- 
proach for being excluded from such 
an unusual festivity, he laid a hand 
affectionately upon his shoulder and 
added, — 

“ I may tell you about it sometime, 
but this little party to-night is to be so 
terribly select that not even the supper 
itself can be admitted. So go to bed, 
old fellow, and I wish you in advance 
a Merry Christmas.” 

u Same to you, sah ; same to you, 
and a good many of ’em ! Good-night, 
sah.” 

Alone in the room, Mr. Valentine 
filled the eight little glasses with the 
old Madeira. He then took seven 
cards from his pocket. On every card 

164 


A Bachelor’s Supper 

was a lady’s name, which he touched 
reverently with his lips before laying 
beside its proper plate. Then, with a 
thoughtfulness and care that indicated 
a familiarity with the preferences of his 
guests, he transposed all the bunches of 
flowers. 

The last one to be laid in position 
was composed entirely of old-fashioned 
pinks. As he placed it on the table, a 
sudden idea seemed to strike him, and, 
taking one of these pinks from the 
bunch, he went back into his chamber 
to the chimney-piece and stood before 
the miniature of a young girl about 
eighteen, in a white dress of a fashion 
long gone by. The brown hair, parted 
in the middle and drawn down in 
straight lines across the forehead, cov- 
ered the ears with a prim severity in 
striking contrast to the plump lips and 
laughing eyes. At her breast was a 
little bunch of the same old-fashioned 
pinks. For Mr. Valentine there were 
evidently sad associations with this 
165 


A Bachelor’s Supper 

cheerful face, as his eyes were moist 
when he inserted his one little flower 
in the carving of the frame. 

Returning to the dining-room, he 
stopped a moment upon the threshold, 
looking with boyish pleasure upon the 
dainty supper-table and the blazing fire. 
He then stepped to his own armchair 
at the head of the table, bowed his head 
in salutation to the absent guests, and 
took his seat. 

The red spots were again in his 
cheeks. The flush of youth came and 
went more fitfully than before as he 
looked along the vacant places, and 
allowed his fancy to fill the seats with 
those who, at different epochs, had been 
so very dear to him. Verily, he seemed 
again in the presence of the seven 
beings whose hearts had once been 
his 1 

And they were not idle flirtations he 
looked back upon, but serious passions ; 
for Mr. Valentine, although impression- 
able, was a steadfast man, and these 
166 


A Bachelor’s Supper 

seven loves of his life had been honest 
and loyal. Moreover, there had always 
been a reasonable space between. 
When his heart went out to a new 
love, it still held firmly to the earlier 
idols and never weakened in its 
devotion. 

These memories gave him an ex- 
quisite pleasure, and for twenty years 
he had taken every care to keep them 
alive and fresh. They were the sanc- 
tities of a heart that could never grow 
old. And now, as he sat with the 
empty chairs about him, he was drifting 
back into the years of his victorious 
youth. He seemed again in the pres- 
ence of those whose memories were 
more precious than life. There, on 
the right, with the quaint little curls 
each side of her face, is the one for 
whom he fought that laughable duel 
and got a bullet in his ribs ; then 
lost her through .a hot little quarrel 
for which he has cursed himself off 
and on for more than half a cen- 
167 


A Bachelor’s Supper 

tury. But the kind eyes smile pleas- 
antly at him now. 

And beside her is the dear, familiar 
maiden of the bobtail horse, she who 
wrote the letters in his secretary drawer. 
The blood flows quicker through his 
veins as she, too, sends a loving greet- 
ing. He laughs to see the same old 
toss of the head he knows so well. 

But that foreign, tempestuous beauty, 
with the pearls in her black hair, and 
the heavy eyelids — why is she here 
among these Americans ? Has she 
also a corner in the old beau’s heart ? 
Of that there is little doubt. As her 
gaze meets his, he leans forward with 
an eager smile and his eyes drop to a 
necklace, where he sees, with a thrill of 
pleasure, a jewelled locket upon her 
throat. He knows well what lies 
within ! 

And la diva ! She, too, is here ! 
What a different life her face recalls ! 
A life of music, flowers, applause. It 
recalls stolen interviews in those deli- 


168 



BUT THEY ALL UNDERSTAND 



























































A Bachelor’s Supper 


cious days before she was famous, and 
before she was given to that short little 
brute with the very long title. It also 
recalls that night he sat waiting for her 
behind one of the flies in the opera at 



Genoa when she, coming off the stage 
in her regal robes, took his head in 
both her hands, and kissed him ! 

All the joy and tragedy of fifty years 
seems crowded in a single moment. 
He leans back in his chair, his hand- 


7 


A Bachelor’s Supper 

some face radiant with unspeakable 
happiness. But the strain is almost 
too great, and he raises a trembling 
hand to his heart as if to keep it in its 
place. 

He suddenly leans forward, however, 
with a bright welcome in his eyes as 
another place is occupied. This time 
by a little figure — a girl of ten or 
thereabouts — who lifts the flowers from 
beside her plate and smiles timidly over 
them. His thoughts fly back into a 
far-away past when he and this maid 
were all the world to one another. It 
was his first passion, his boyish love. 
Does she remember the day he dragged 
her up the hill upon his sled, and when 
at the very top he slipped and, falling 
in her lap, they sped like lightning to 
the bottom and were shot head fore- 
most into a snow-bank ? Oh, yes ; 
she remembers it well, and nods her 
head ! There is a tear upon his cheek 
as he thinks of the checkerberries he 
laid upon a young girl’s grave ; and the 
1 72 . 


A Bachelor’s Supper 

cornelian ring he wore until it fell 
apart. 

Another radiant creature fills an 
empty chair and gayly returns his wel- 
come. She tosses him a rose, this girl 
of the boat and the island, of the moon 
and the music, and shakes her fan at 
him, the very fan that is locked up in 
his bureau drawer ! 

They are all here now except one — • 
and — yes — even she is here ! — the 
original of the miniature, the girl with 
the old-fashioned pinks. The same 
smile, the same eyes, and they tell him 
to-night, as they have done many times 
before, of a heart that knows no waver- 
ing. He draws a hand across his brow 
as if the pain and pleasure were too 
keen for nerves and tissues of seventy 
years. 

Slowly rising to his feet, he lifts the 
little glass of Madeira from the table, 
then looks around with a loving glance 
that meets, from every face, a loving 
answer. He tries to speak, and his 
173 


A Bachelor’s Supper 

tremulous lips refuse to utter the toast, 
— the message from an overcrowded 
heart. 

But they all understand. They re- 
spond with a graceful gesture, each 
with her own little glass, as he puts the 
wine to his lips. 

At that moment the old timepiece 
in the corner, with its chimes and bells, 
begins to sound the hour of twelve ; 
and, as he smiles upon the radiant 
forms about him, the wine, with a tu- 
multuous beating, throbs hotly through 
his veins and surges to his brain, keep- 
ing time with the ringing clock. Then 
the sound grows fainter and fainter, 
as if dying away, and seems, with 
a drowsy rhythm, to lift him gently 
with it. 

When Clem entered the next morn- 
ing, two narrow bars of sunshine had 
crept between the curtains, faintly light- 
ing the silent room. The candles had 
burnt out in their sockets, and his 


r?4 



WHEN CLEM ENTERED TIIE NEXT MORNINC 


























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A Bachelor’s Supper 

master, his chin upon his breast, had 
sunk back into his final sleep. 

The little wine-glasses were partially 
emptied, and the bunches of flowers were 
gone. 


12 


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